


Draw the Line and Walk Across

by qnuua



Category: Ski Jumping RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Olympic feels, Olympics, Pining, Tiny bit of Angst, basically it's just a mess, chaos everywhere all the time, let's see what else, poor boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qnuua/pseuds/qnuua
Summary: Minutes away from boarding the Olympic plane, Stephan has two problems.Problem number 1: There's a massive tea stain on his shirt and he doesn't have a change of clothes. (All Markus' fault.)Problem number 2: He might have a crush on his totally clueless (and probably straight) best friend who is not looking to settle down with anyone until he is at least a four-time Olympic medalist. (Not a problem really, just a tiny inconvenience.)Besides those things, he's all good. Maybe. (Probably not.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a collection of shortish drabbles with vague plot but my characters had other ideas - no suprise there - so this is now a collection of not-shortish drabbles with vague plot. Basically I had a flu and needed something to pass my time with and what a better way to do that than to relive the Olympics. At the moment I'm thinking about 10 chapters but we'll see how this will turn out.
> 
> This is my first time trying to write in English, and it's still a bit weird for me, so I promise you there are mistakes as I don't have a beta. Let's deal with that.
> 
> This is written with the utmost respect towards the jumpers, no harm/disrespect intended towards any of them. I don't know the real people, and all you read here is my imagination. This is purely fiction and me playing with words and characters.
> 
> A very special thank you to [printzess-blog](http://printzess-blog.tumblr.com/) who is an amazing person and helped me to get my facts straight. After years and years of writing about the other teams, the Germans are an unknown territory I know nothing about, and I'm forever grateful for all the help I got.

I have a problem.

Well, make that two.

The boarding to the Olympic plane is about to start in a few minutes and I just spilled tea on my shirt. The stain on my chest is quickly growing, soaking the hoodie and the t-shirt underneath it.

Fantastic.

It wasn’t even my fault. Markus was running around being the overenthusiastic little idiot that he is and bumped into me and my precious third cup of tea of the day. I’m almost certain he did that on purpose as he always complains that I drink too much tea. Well, he got what he wanted. My third cup of tea is now all over my shirt, and I was dumb enough not to pack a change of clothes to my carry-on bag. That means an eleven-hour flight to Korea with a wet and disgusting shirt. 

Karl finds it amusing and has been giggling at me for the past few minutes. I hate him. 

So problem number one: a wet shirt. 

(Problem number one and a half: idiotic teammates.)

So far it’s nothing I can’t handle. I sent Markus on his way to get napkins to help dry my shirt and told him that while he’s at it he could also find me a clean shirt to wear. He probably ends up buying the most horrible shirt he comes across in the airport. Too bad I can’t really wear anything he gets me from the shops. Olympic rules and all, we have to wear the rings on our chest wherever we go. So it is either these wet shirts or nothing at all, and I prefer wearing clothes in public places.

Problem number two then. That is somewhat trickier.

The second problem currently sits across from me in the airport lounge and plays with his phone. His hair is a careful mess, looking as if he hasn’t done anything to it after he woke up when the truth is he probably stood at least fifteen minutes in front of a mirror poking every strand to its place. Something on his phone amuses him, making his lips curl into a smile. 

Everyone says it is my smile that lights up the room but everyone is wrong. It’s his smile. The smile that lights up his entire face and forms adorable crinkles next to his eyes. The smile that usually annoys the hell out of Richi because more often than not it means Andi has successfully completed one of his pranks. The smile that makes my insides go all mushy and my heart beat a tad faster.

His smile makes everything better. It lights up my world.

Ugh. God, Stephan, tone down a bit. You sound like a lovesick fool.

Okay…

His smile makes everything better. It lights up the room.

Now that’s better. Subtler. I can be subtle. I am the master of subtle. I have been dealing with this stupid crush for nearly two years now and so far no one has noticed.

Richi eyes me suspiciously from his seat.

Okay, Richi might have noticed, but to be fair he notices everything. It has been his job ever since Severin tore his ACL again and had to hand over the team leader duties to him. Severin used to be so good at it, always knowing everything that was going on in the team, and Richi is not bad either. I think he quite enjoys spying on everyone to ensure we behave. Well, it’s mostly Markus and Andi whom he has to keep an eye on as they are the disastrous duo in our team. 

Apart from Richi, I’m pretty sure my stupid secret crush is safe. It’s not even a crush really. It’s just a tiny inconvenience which has lasted a bit longer than I originally planned. It was supposed to be a summer fling type of thing. You know, he parading around training camps without a shirt on. Half the team does that in summer to be fair, but half the team doesn’t have abs like he does. 

(Let’s be fair: yes they do, but you get my point.) 

He’s a good-looking guy, I’m a lonely man with a vivid imagination. Things happen in dark rooms during the night. And by things I mean desperate, lonely wanks with his abs on my mind. That is how it started. Thinking about your teammate when you are jerking off is probably not a very wise thing to do, but it was only supposed to be that one time. Then two times. Then three.

Really, I was going to stop at the end of that summer. I thought that when the weather would cool down he'd have to wear more clothes again. It wasn’t my fault that he chose to be my roommate for the training camps that fall and continued parading around with minimal clothing in our hotel room. 

See: not my fault. It’s completely his. If he wanted to stop being the hero of my wet dreams he should stop looking so good. Stop stretching his arms so that his shirt rides up a bit to reveal those abs and a patch of light hair below his navel, so light I wouldn’t know it’s there had I not paid particularly close attention to his abs for the past few years. And the patch of hair goes down, I know, down, down it leads to – oh god.

Richi gives me a nasty look.

Yeah, he is right. Better not to think about these things in the airport lounge with an eleven-hour flight looming ahead of us, a flight which offers no privacy to take care of the uncomfortable situation happening in my trousers.

“Hi.” His voice flows to my ears, and I realize too late that I’ve been staring again. He has noticed and is now smiling, waving his hand to get my attention. “What are you staring at?” 

You, my mind supplies an answer I can’t give him.

“Nothing.” I will myself not to blush as I meet his gaze. “You have chocolate on your chin.”

“Liar.” Not believing me he turns back to his phone.

“No, he’s right,” Karl says from beside him. “Right there.” He points at his chin. I cast him a winning smile, and he grimaces as he tries to wipe his face clean.

“Did I get it?”

No, there’s still traces of it left near his bottom lip.

I could lick it off. I could suck his bottom lip to my mouth like I’ve done countless of times in my fantasies. I’d lick my way into his mouth, chase the taste of the chocolate on his tongue, take my time with him. I’d caress his cheek with my thumb, get him breathless, get him to want more, and then, only then, I’d pull back and lick the remains of the chocolate off his chin. I’d give him one last peck on the lips, and then I’d turn away, wait. Wait for him to take a deep breath, wait for him to beg for more.

And then I’d give him everything.

Jesus, Leyhe, _cool off!_

“No, you pig,” Richi sighs and leans closer to swipe the rest of it off with his finger. I watch as his fingers trace along the chin, up the cheeks, and Andi – the menace he is – licks his fingers to his mouth to steal the last taste of chocolate on Richi’s fingers.

Dear god, help me.

“Disgusting,” Richi grunts and wipes his fingers to Andi’s shirt as I look away just in time to see Markus sprinting towards me. In his hands he has a clean shirt which he presents to me proudly. He’s like an overexcited puppy sometimes, wagging his tail, waiting for the praise.

Um. I look at the shirt he’s holding. Richi has noticed it as well, he groans hiding his face to his hands. I feel like doing the same even though I’m not the one that needs to do all the damage control after Markus’ antics. That’s Richi’s job as the leader of our team. He is the oldest so he has the responsibility. Well, technically Markus is four months older, but no one is stupid enough to give Markus any responsibilities. 

“I can’t wear that,” I sigh, watching how the smile on Markus’ face falters.

“Why not?” 

“Well, for one it’s at least two sizes too small.” I eye the shirt in his hands warily. “And two, it is the Austrian Olympic team shirt. Where did you get that?”

Markus shifts on his feet. “Um. I borrowed it.” 

Great. Some poor Austrian is probably currently having a panic attack thinking he’d left a team shirt home. Most likely Kraft, I’d say. The shirt looks small enough to be his.

“Well, take it back. I’ll just steal your shirt to wear.”

“You can’t, mine’s too small for you,” Markus reminds me immediately. “You’ll have to take Andi’s.”

“My what?” Andi lifts his eyes from his phone, looking at us. Markus is already gesturing towards his shirt.

“Give me your shirt, Stephan needs it,” he demands. Andi is eyeing me up and down. There’s a smirk on his face, and he is teasing me already with his smile only. Don’t say it, I beg silently, but Andi’s smirk only widens. 

“Or you could just go without the shirt,” he suggests casually. “Give the flight attendants an eyeful of those abs.” He winks at me. 

I blush. 

“Yes! Let’s see those abs,” Markus gets excited and abandons the Austrian team shirt to the bench next to me. I struggle to get his hands away as he attacks me, trying to lift my shirt. Laughing Andi watches from his bench as I struggle and does absolutely nothing to help me. 

“I hate you all,” I announce when I finally manage to push Markus away.

“Liar,” Andi calls again, laughing. This time he’s right.

~x~

When they finally announce our plane being ready for boarding Andi is the first one to jump up from his seat almost tripping over himself as he hurries to me. Demanding to take a picture before we board the plane, he presses his cheek against mine and I can feel him smiling to the phone he’s now pointing at our faces. I can’t help but smile too.

The team buzzes around us. Markus has lost the shirt he borrowed from the Austrians, and Richi is furious at him. Karl is starting to get anxious, he always does if he has to listen others fighting around him for too long. To me this is a familiar, relaxing chaos, and I can almost imagine this being us getting ready for a normal competition weekend in Poland or Norway or Finland. 

Almost. 

“This is it,” Andi says, the quiet words meant just for me, and I can’t resist the urge to pull him a bit closer to me. Just for a moment, just this once, as this isn’t a normal weekend of World Cup competitions. This is us getting ready to fly to the other side of the world, to Korea. To the Olympics. This is a start of something special and I would like to pretend that normal rules don’t apply here, during this trip. 

It would be so much easier, not to lie anymore, as pretending it’s all a tiny crush that will go away over time got pretty much impossible already nearly a year ago. Since then, I’ve tried to lie to myself but as Andi always likes to point out, I’m not a good liar.

So. Yeah. Here we are: about to board the Olympic plane. His second Olympics, my first. We are going to spend the next eleven hours crammed up in an airplane with the team, and my shirt is still wet from the tea Markus made me spill over myself earlier. That is a problem I can handle. That is something easy, fixable. 

My other problem is not.

I made a promise to Andi once, years ago when we first got to know each other. I promised that in a world where the winds can change in a blink of an eye, where things can go wrong in seconds, and where you can’t really trust anything or anyone, he could always trust me. Honesty is a thing Andi values the most, and that’s what he wanted from me.

I promised to never keep secrets from him.

Yeah. So. My other problem. It wouldn’t even have been a problem if I’d told him two years ago when I first came with his name on my lips. We could have laughed it off, Andi would have made fun of me for the next five years but that would’ve been it. If only I had told him then.

It’s too late now.

I can’t tell him now that during the last two years he has been the one on my mind when I jerk off, can’t say that for a year now he has been so much more than just the source of my orgasms. I wish I could tell him the truth. I wish I could say that I kind of want to wake up next to him every day, start every day kissing him, fight with him about who gets to read the morning paper first and do every other happily-ever-after thing with him.

I wish I could, but there are lines drawn between us years ago, lines I’ve crossed without asking him for a permission. There are rules in friendships, and I’ve broken them. You can’t just draw a line and walk across, yet that’s what I did. I broke the promise I made to Andi years ago, and the worst part is I don’t regret the fantasy I have in my head, the fantasy of us two living happily ever after together. I only regret of having enough sense in my head to know that that’s what it can ever be: a fantasy.

A couple days ago Andi told me that if he ever got married, he’d want me as his best man, and that would be totally cool if I didn’t have quite a different image on my mind. In my dreams I’m not the one watching from the side as he marries a beautiful girl. In my head I’m standing next to him, saying I do.

“Do you?” he whispers next to me.

“Huh?” I blink. I did not just speak out loud, did I? Please, no, this is not the way I want to start my Olympic journey.

“I asked do you plan to let me go anytime soon so we can board the plane,” Andi repeats and I realize I’m still holding him in my arms. When I let him go he dances away, turning to wink at me as he goes.

“I know I’m a catch but you know I’m not going to settle down with anyone before I’m at least a four-time Olympic medalist.” He’s laughing, and yes, I do know that. That’s what he always tells anyone who tries to snoop on his love life or pressure him into getting one. A four-time Olympic medalist, that’s what he wants to be, needs to be, before he can have anyone in his life. He always laughs as he tells people that as joking is how he handles uncomfortable situations. Prying questions about his private life always make him queasy. He needs the control, the line he's drawn between his public and private self to stay intact. 

Not a chance then, not for anyone. He’s out of reach for at least the next four years. Because as much as I believe in him, there’s not a chance in hell of him winning three medals during these Olympics. That would mean a medal on every event we have, and the competition in our sport is too tough these days. 

And even if he would somehow manage to do the impossible, I’m quite sure he’s looking to settle down with some pretty girl with long legs and amazing hair, not his awkward best friend.

Basically, I’m screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty much given up thinking these chapters will be short, easy drabbles. I had a part that was a nice ~300 words which was how every part was supposed to be in the very beginning, but that ~300 words part is now about 3000 words so... yeah, keeping this nice and short is going great so far.
> 
> What that means is that it will take some time to get new parts up just because writing/proofreading them will take more time when they are longer (duh).
> 
> Anyway thanks to everyone who read the first part & left feedback/kudos, always so very appreciated <3

Here is how it is: flying with this team is only fun in the hills. On planes – not so much. 

Planes make Markus restless because he hates sitting still for longer periods of time. Restless Markus equals even-crumpier-than-usual Richi. They were sitting behind me and Andi on the plane, bickering the second half of the flight constantly. 

Karl always gets anxious during flights because an airline once lost his luggage. Since then he has spent every flight stressing out whether his things are going to make it to the destination or not. No one has enough patience to calm him down. The first time he asks whether we think his luggage will make it or not is fine. After he has asked fifteen times and come up with twenty-two ways how his luggage can get lost, it’s pure hell. 

And Andi – 

Andi loves people. And talking. And talking to people. I usually end up sitting next to him on a plane because I’m the only one who can stand his blabbering for hours and hours. Richi has no patience for him, Markus is too restless to listen, and Karl is too busy thinking about his skis ending up in Nigeria to listen anything Andi says. So it’s my job to sit next to him. On a normal two-hour flight it’s fine, but even I get tired of constantly listening his voice for eleven hours straight. I stop listening at halfway through the flight which annoys him, and first thing off the plane he runs to find company that actually wants to speak with him.

That annoys Richi even more. 

“Someone go get him back,” he crumbles, not in a great mood after the eleven-hour flight we just had. “He’s going to forget his luggage and then we’re going to be late again.”

That someone means me, because Markus ran off to find a toilet immediately after we landed and hasn’t come back yet, and Karl is standing next to the baggage carousel and refuses to move before he has been reunited with his luggage. There’s a constant buzz in the baggage claim area, and Richi rubs his head after scowling to me. He has a headache, and as I turn to find Andi, I pray to gods I don’t have to sit next to him in the train.

Andi is not hard to find. He stands on the other side of the baggage carousel talking animatedly with Kraft and Hayböck. Well, mostly Kraft, I notice, because Hayböck seems to be yawning and looks like he doesn’t actually know which country he is currently in. I can relate. 

There are quite a few familiar faces in the baggage claim area with us, I realize, and most likely they will be on the same train to Pyeongchang with us as well. Keeping Andi with our team is going to be a task. He loves wandering off to greet other people as much as Richi hates him doing that. 

“Go!” Richi snaps from behind me. I sigh. 

Thing is I’m not as comfortable with our colleagues as Andi is. Actually there are very few people who are as comfortable with them as Andi is. I smile and nod when I see them at the hill or at the hotel, but that is it. I don’t have any urge to stop and ask for how they are. And for the most part, they let me be as well. I’m perfectly fine having friends within our team only. Andi on the other hand – everyone loves Andi, and Andi loves everyone. He doesn’t just smile and nod to people, he’s always stopping for a conversation. With everyone, anyone. I once found him having a chat with a Finn. And god knows the Finns don’t usually talk to anyone. It can be quite frustrating at times when you are walking somewhere with him. Everyone is always stopping him to have a chat which means Andi and whoever-it-is-that-time are chatting away, while I stand next to them having absolutely nothing to say. 

It isn’t a problem really, that’s just how Andi is. It only becomes a problem when I need to go get him back. Getting him to stop talking isn’t an easy task. 

I inch closer. Could I just grab his jacket and pull him away from the little circle they’ve created? That’d be easier than trying to get into that circle and interrupt their conversation.

_Yeah, um, hi, um, Andi, stop talking for a minute so I can tell you that Richi is pissed off and wants you to get your luggage, and um –_

I don’t know how he does it. He seems to have a sixth sense sometimes when it comes to me, because when I’m close enough, he immediately steps back to widen their little circle to accommodate me. Thing is, he always tries to find a way to include me. I can only blame myself for being so awkward that I never find anything to say to other people despite Andi giving me a chance to do so. 

He smiles at me, apparently already forgiven me the fact that I refused to listen to him for the last four hours of our flight.

“All good?” he asks, nudging me gently as I nod my greetings to the two Austrians. Kraft smiles back at me while Hayböck is trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.

“Richi isn’t,” I answer looking at Andi. 

“I told him he should’ve slept during the flight,” Andi points out.

“He never sleeps though,” I remind him. “Something about the noise that’s bugging him.”

“Something about Severin not being here more likely,” Andi mutters to himself. 

“I have a hard time sleeping on planes too,” Kraft interrupts us and then points to the blond man standing next to him. “This one is always happily snoring away but I – “

“I don’t snore,” Hayböck mutters, furrowing his brows to the shorter man.

“Doesn’t matter, love, I’m used to it. Been sleeping next to you for the past four years, remember?” Kraft pats his arm and then smiles at me. His smile is completely relaxed, and I’m having a hard time smiling back. I don’t want to be rude or insensitive, and the last thing I want is them to think that I’d have something against them being a couple. 

Truth is I’m jealous.

They’ve been living their happily ever after for years now. That is what I want. I want someone to get home to. I want someone to stand next to me, someone to hold, someone to love, someone who loves me back. They have that, and they have managed it while also being teammates, competitors. 

It hasn’t been easy for them, I know that. They nearly broke up a year ago, that’s what I heard. Andi got somehow in the middle of it, they were pretty tight with Kraft last spring, and even I thought for a while that – but it was stupid. Andi’s not interested in Kraft. Andi’s not interested in guys in general. It’s been all girls he has talked about in those few times he actually have been talking about those things. He is a pretty private person deep down, never likes to join in when the others are talking about relationships.

I don’t think anyone minded at first. He has always been the youngest in the team – our baby, Severin likes to call him. But the older he got the more everyone seemed to think that he needed to get a girlfriend. We had a huge argument about the subject with the team two years ago.

I had been mostly quiet when the conversation turned towards girls and dating, but no one ever expects me to talk that much anyway. Andi on the other hand had gotten quiet as well, and of course everyone noticed that. They were teasing him, urging for details he didn’t want to give them, and of course he ended up pointing out to everyone that I was being as quiet and as single as he was. They wouldn’t fall for his desperate attempts to turn the heat from him to me. 

“Oh, come on, look at that smile!” Richi exclaimed. “Stephan can get any girl he likes, we don’t need to worry about _him_.”

I could’ve let them live with the illusion of me liking girls, but they are my friends as well as teammates. In winter I spend more time with them than anyone else, and it was just easier, telling them rather than pretending every time we talked about relationships.

“No, um, actually I prefer – “

“What? Guys?” He laughed as if the idea of me liking guys would be outright implausible.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh.” Everyone was silent for a second or two. “That’s cool”, Richi ended the silence.

And then Markus wanted to know how the sex works when you’re gay, and Severin and Richi got so mad at him for asking such an inappropriate question, and Markus got confused because he hadn’t wanted to be inappropriate, he was just curious. While they started arguing about manners, Karl leaned closer and told me he was really glad I trusted them enough to tell them, and then he said I was really brave. I didn’t feel like I was brave, I was so scared of opening up to them. And Andi – Andi was there, sitting across from me, kind of just staring. He smiled when he saw me looking.

“We need to find you a boyfriend then,” was all he said in a weird squeaky voice, and I didn't have time to ask if he was alright because Markus got distracted from his conversation with Severin and Richi and started to interrogate me about what kind of guys I liked. It was right when I’d first started to dream about Andi, and it was very hard not to describe him as my ideal guy. I ended up mumbling something about older and shorter, and Markus spent the evening writing a list of older and shorter guys in the ski jumping world. Because in his mind, I’d have to date a ski jumper purely for convenience. 

“Think about how easy it would be! No late night phone calls and missing each other for four months straight. You’d get to spend the whole winter together,” was his reasoning, and he’s right. It would be so much easier to have someone who travels with you, how knows the constant pressure you’re under. Someone who understands it and shares it. 

I have good friends in the team, I have Andi. But it would be so different to have someone closer than that, to have a partner.

“How’s the renovating going?” Andi asks, and I don’t know if he’s just changing the subject or if I have missed more of their conversation while I zoned out. 

“Not great,” Kraft sighs, shaking his head. “I accidentally smashed Michi’s fingers with a hammer, and since then he has forbidden me to participate.” The two Austrians look at each other. I'm staring at their hands, their fingers loosely interlaced. The touch is gentle, intimate, so natural for them, and it makes my own fingers tingle. I want that. "I mean, Michi is great with his hands, but it's a lot of work to be done on your own," Kraft continues, his thumb caressing Hayböck's hand.

“If you need any help after the season,” Andi begins to say.

“Don’t let him near any renovating sights”, I mutter quietly. He hears me anyway.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Andi turns to smirk at me. “Your living room renovation last summer was a disaster.”

“It was only a disaster because you were there trying to paint my walls purple,” I remind him.

“Hey, those walls would’ve gotten you a sponsor deal!” Andi points his finger at me.

“Yeah, no thanks.” I shudder remembering last summer. Andi invited himself over when I was living in the middle of a renovating chaos. I had talked about wanting to paint the living room walls to brighten the gloomy room, and I had already done a trip to the hardware store and bought white pain but Andi thought it was boring and had gotten purple one as well. 

“To remind you of me when I’m not here,” he tried to convince me when I refused to have Milka colored walls in my house. 

“He doesn’t like chocolate,” Andi turns to explain to the other two. That is not the reason why I refused to paint my walls purple but I don’t correct him. “Who doesn’t like chocolate?” He sounds so incredulous I have to laugh.

“ANDI!” Richi yells from across the baggage claim area at the same time, and I remember the task he gave me.

“Oh, yeah, we need to go,” I tell the others and pull Andi’s sleeve. He lets out a sigh as he bids the other two goodbye.

“What are they renovating?” I ask when we are walking towards our own team.

“Hmmh? Oh, it’s the house they bought um, last spring I think,” Andi says, distracted. “Apparently they haven’t had the time to actually finish the renovation because of everything that happened last year.”

“It was a bit sad, wasn’t it?”

“What was?”

“The whole things last spring. Kraft won everything, didn’t he? He was the best he’s ever been, yet his private life was left in shards. Do you think that’s inevitable?”

“What?” 

“That you can’t jump at the top level while also maintaining your relationship. That the other one is bound to fail at one point?” It’s what I’ve been thinking, when I watched Kraft and Hayböck have that huge fight they had last year. They are pretty much the perfect couple, at least that’s what they look like to me. But the minute they had to work the success into their relationship, everything crumbled. It seems to be impossible, to have it all.

“Why are you thinking such things?” Andi asks, suddenly suspicious. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” He squints at me, and I almost laugh. Yeah, there are things I’m not telling him, things I desperately do want to tell him. Just not those kind of things he thinks I’m keeping from him. As if I ever could start dating someone and not tell him. He’d probably be the first one to know, if I’d ever find someone.

“No, I just – “ I shrug. “Like – it’s really difficult. Having it all.”

“Well, of course it’s difficult,” Andi huffs. “That’s why I’m focusing purely on ski jumping.”

And there it is again: a blatant reminder that he’s off limits. He doesn’t want a relationship at this point of his career, it’s all ski jumping for him. Relationship comes after he’s done with jumping. Relationship with a hot, blond _girl_ , not me. I really, really need to stop imagining living happily ever after with him.

Karl is still standing next to the baggage carousel when we come closer. He’s muttering to himself as each bag passes him.

“Not mine, not mine, not mine, not mine, MINE, oh no, it’s not, this one’s yours, Andi.” He turns to hand Andi one of the bags while Andi turns to me, begging.

“No, you can’t,” I answer to the wordless question.

“But it’d be so much fun,” he begs.

“No, he’ll have a heart attack. And Richi will kill you,” I remind him. Sighing Andi turns to walk to Karl to get his bag, and I can only hope he will obey me and not hide one of Karl’s bags again. He did it once in Oslo, and Karl nearly had a mental breakdown when he thought his bags had gone missing again. Needless to say, it wasn’t particularly pleasant weekend for any of us in the team after that incident. 

I’m about to join them just to make sure Andi behaves when Markus appears out of nowhere and blocks my way. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins. That’s always a bad sign. “We definitely need to get you laid during these Olympics.” 

Years ago I might have asked why he has been thinking about my sex life. Now I know better. Markus’ head is a weird place, and it’s better to stay out of it if you can. So I don’t ask. I just stare at him with a carefully blank expression on my face.

“Now, I’ve done some research,” he continues pulling a familiar looking piece of paper from his pocket. It’s The List, and it’s bad news. Very bad news. I groan. 

“Why do you still have that?”

“Because you’re not married and living your happily ever after yet. Wait – can you even get married in Germany?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Right then! So.” Markus looks at the list he wrote two years ago. It’s a list of potential boyfriend candidates for me. He has had it since the day he found out I prefer guys, and he likes to pull it out from time to time even though I’ve rejected all the names on the list at least ten times already. Just to check, he says, that I haven’t changed my mind. He has taken it upon himself to find me a boyfriend and make me happy. I haven’t asked why but it’s kind of an obsession for him at this point.

“Are we still 100% certain that we don’t like Ammann?” Markus ponders. 

“Yes we are,” I sigh much to Markus’ disappointment.

“He’d be perfect,” Markus sounds wistful as he pulls out a pen and crosses out Ammann’s name from his list, again. It’s been crossed out at least ten times already, but Markus is nothing but persistent in his suggestions. “Now, does he still need to be older and shorter? Because there are a lot of younger guys I think you’d like. The Norwegians are always an option, just get them drunk enough and they’ll do anything. Or we could consider athletes from other sports as well.” Markus looks thoughtful. 

“Let’s stick with our sport,” I say, purely because it’s easier to monitor Markus that way. I don’t want to run after him through the entire Olympic Village if he tries to hook me up with a snowboarder or, I don’t know, some of the Nordic combined guys.

“We could always ask Stoch, I think. He’s too polite to say no,” Markus muses and ignores me when I try to voice my opinion. It’s not surprising as he listens to me about five percent of the time anyway.

“Ask Stoch what?” Andi has wandered back to us and left Karl stare at the baggage carousel all by himself.

“To have sex with Stephan,” Markus answers, and I have to confess, the look on Andi’s face is hilarious. 

“No! What? No, Markus, eugh!” 

“That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t listen,” I mutter when Andi looks at me. “Look, Markus, I’m not really even looking to get laid.” I don’t mention anything about my dry spell which has lasted for three months now. It’s difficult during the competition season. There’s really no time for hook ups, no time to go through that effort of finding someone, and I actually do miss sex. But Markus doesn't need to know that.

“But you have to! Everyone does during the Olympics, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“I didn’t in Sochi,” Andi points out.

“You didn’t? Then why did you have all those condoms in your bag when you came back?”

“Wanki thought I’d like them as souvenirs,” Andi shrugs. 

“They do make good water balloons,” Markus admits and forgets me when he starts to think about a possibility to have a water balloon fight in the Olympic Village. 

“Mine!” Karl shouts excitedly from the baggage carousel. “No, it’s not. That’s yours, Markus.” He turns to us again, defeated. I can see the panic starting to creep into his mind as the bags pass by and his is nowhere to be seen. His luck with getting his bags quickly is nonexistent. He doesn't have any of his bags yet, while Richi has been sitting on top of his pile of bags for the past ten minutes waiting for everyone else to be ready. 

Markus sprints to his bag and leaves me and Andi alone. Andi is shifting on his feet, looking at me, and I stare back. Smile a little, shake my head to the question in his eyes: yes, Markus is out of his mind again, no, I’m not running off to have sex with the first person I meet in the Olympic Village. Andi looks relieved, as if he’d though he’d really have to worry about me running off to have sex with strangers every night.

I raise my eyebrows. “Really, Andreas,” I pronounce his name carefully. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t,” he mumbles, looking at the ground. 

Yeah, I wouldn’t. Instead I’m going to spend my evenings with him, in our room. Two weeks of living together, watching him sleep naked in the bed next to mine and strut around the room without a shirt on. It’s going to be so much fun. 

Maybe I should let Markus find me someone to spend time with. Just to relieve that tension, to escape the torture that is going to be living with Andi these next weeks.

Or maybe I’ll just take really long showers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, guys, editing this one has been pain(!!), but here it is finally. Thank you so much for all the kudos/comments, I'll try to answer the comments as soon as I have more time. In the meantime, here's part three for you :)

The first few days of the Olympic life have been amazing, and everyone is happy. Karl got his luggage at the airport so nothing can ruin his good mood. We were on time in the train, so Richi got a good start to the Olympics after all. Markus uses his time happily brainstorming alternative uses for the Olympic condoms which keeps him so busy he has forgotten The List for now and that in turn makes me rather satisfied as I don’t have to monitor him at all times. Andi on the other hand has started singing in the shower again, and he only does that when he’s all relaxed and happy, and for the most part he has kept his clothes on too, which makes my life that little bit easier.

There is the hassle of getting to know our tiny apartment and the Olympic village – Karl gets lost only twice during the first day. Our apartment is a homely mess in hours, and Markus has lost three pairs of socks already. We have the first official training in the normal hill on Wednesday, and I’m pleased with my jumps. The weather is freezing but the hill is quite nice, and I feel good about my performance in the training. 

It’s all going great. 

Until it isn’t.

The walls of my perfect world come crushing down in the evening after we come back from the training.

Schuster told me two minutes ago that I’m not going to be in the team for the competition in the normal hill. 

We were going to have a quick team meeting but he wanted to tell me beforehand. Richi was in the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee and overheard the news. He said that I should be happy for all the free time I was getting. It was supposed to be a joke, I think, but it fell flat the minute he said it. I couldn’t answer, couldn’t even force a laugh. I just shook my head as he tried to apologize for the joke.

They are all here now, staring at me, and I need to be strong for them although that is the last thing I want to be. I can’t be here for them. I want to be alone. I need to be alone.

I’m not good enough. It’s the old insecurity again, and at times like these my mind loves to come up with all the memories of my failures. I’m used to it, used to have these thoughts in my head, and I know how to get over them, but I need to be alone for that. I need to be by myself, not in front of the team.

Sometimes it’s so hard, too hard.

We live with the team nearly four months a year. There are days alone at home here and there but most of the winter we spend together. From the starting madness in November to the Four Hills Tournament, then to the ski flying hills and towards the major competitions – Championship games or Olympics – in the spring, we go together.

I love the team, I do, but there are times when I wish I was somewhere else. Or that they’d be.

There are times when it kills me that I have to pull myself together and be happy for them, when all I really want to do is be selfish and only think about myself. Put myself first. At the end of the day ski jumping is an individual sport and we are all competitive. We want to be the best, we want the eyes on us. We don’t want to sit on sidelines watching others do what we love. We need to be selfish, think about ourselves. 

It is not always a possibility, not with the team around you.

Not with the head coach’s eyes on you, tracking every emotion you go through, assessing how you handle the news.

Not in the team.

Not good enough, and everything is too much right now. I want them gone, I want to handle this alone. I need to handle this alone as falling to pieces in front of the team is not an option. You have to be rational, professional. There are five of us and only four places in the team. Everyone can do the math, and this is not the end of the world. It’s the nature of this sport.

It’s also my hopes and dreams crushed with one sentence.

It hurts – not getting the chance to jump when that is all I really want to do. And it’s not even that I was bad and everyone else was so much better than me, no. I was brilliant, as good as the others, better even. But it’s not my place to question the decisions of the coach. Every single one of the others have earned their place in the team, and I can’t resent them for that. 

It’s still hard, not to let your confidence crumble. At times like these, it’s so easy to remember all the mistakes you’ve made and the things you could’ve done better. If I’d won that team medal for us in Oberstdorf, if I hadn’t let them down in Lahti, maybe there would be a place for me in the team. It’s no one’s fault when there are five top jumpers in the team, yet I can’t help but blame myself. Not good enough, not in the eyes of the coach who is now looking at me, waiting to hear my reaction.

“I will carry your bags, but I refuse to be your personal slave.” I’m mostly looking at Markus who I’m sure is thinking about asking me to carry him to places during the competition. I force myself to smile, but I know I don’t succeed as well as I’d like. I grit my teeth together as I will myself to stand tall in front of the others. I won’t crumble, I can’t.

“Can we get an extra heat lamp to Stephan to the stands?” Karl contemplates. “What?” he asks when I glace at him. “You’re always cold.”

“You can carry me around the backstage tomorrow,” Markus suggests. “Purely to warm you up between the rounds of course,” he adds.

“Piss off, I’m not carrying you anywhere.” That comes out more bitterly than I intended. I try to school my expression into something more neutral. It's not their fault. It’s no one’s fault but mine.

I’m not good enough.

“Rude,” Markus complains.

Schuster excuses himself when he senses that the bickering is about to start, he always does that although I don’t think he has much to complain. I’ve seen the chaos the Norwegian team can create, our team is quite innocent compared to them even though Markus and Andi try to add more chaos to our team as well. 

I find Andi looking at me, worrying his lip. _Are you alright_ , he seems to ask wordlessly, and I shake my head a tiniest bit. For him I’m not going to pretend. He is part of the team, but he is also so much more. A friend, the one I keep no secrets from.

Apart from that tiny inconvenience. 

_Wanna talk?_ The question is clear in his eyes. I shrug. Later maybe, when we’re alone in our room, but not now, not in front of the whole team. He nods, understanding.

“Stop doing that, it’s annoying,” Markus whines next to me.

“Do what?” Andi furrows his brows.

“That weird telepathic thing you have going on.” Markus motions between Andi and me. “I want to be included in conversations too.”

“Yeah, me too!” Karl nods next to him, and they turn to face Richi to get more support. Richi looks at me, scowling.

“I’d rather stay out of it,” he says. “Don’t want to know the weird things they have in their heads.”

“I don’t know how you do that, anyway,” Markus complains. “I mean Andi is like an open book most days, but you,” he turns to me, “are quite impossible.” Karl turns to stare at me too. Richi peeks over the magazine he’s started reading. I blink as the four of them stare at me.

“What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Markus leans closer to tap my forehead with his finger.

“Yeah, please do tell us mortals who can’t read your mind like Andi can,” Karl adds.

I shove them away, forcing myself to laugh. It doesn’t come out quite right, but it’s better than nothing. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I wouldn’t,” Richi declares. I glare at him. He fiddles with his moustache and doesn’t seem too bothered by my glares. 

“I hate you all,” I decide.

“Liar,” calls Andi again, smiling at me. I smile back, I have to. 

As hard as it sometimes is to pretend to be fine even though you aren’t, it’s all worth it because when you are there for them, they are there for you. I consider them being some of my best friends, how could they not be when we spend so much time together. Ski jumping is one of the biggest things in my life, and they are part of it: my teammates, colleagues – friends. 

Sometimes it’s hard, having the team around you all the time.

Sometimes it’s a blessing.

~x~

Later I sit on my bed, staring at the wall in front of me. I feel the tears burning in my eyes, and that’s stupid. I’m not crying over this, I’m not! This is not the end of the world. I know I’m good enough and I don’t have anything to be ashamed of.

Still there is a nagging feeling deep in my stomach. Not good enough, it keeps reminding me. A failure. 

I’ve been working for years to get rid of that feeling, but the truth is you can never fully let it go. It’s always there, a tiny reminder of those fears and insecurities that are always going to be a part of me.

The door opens quietly and Andi peeks in. 

“Are you okay?” he asks stepping inside. I nod my head to him, an automatic reaction to assure him everything is alright, then shake it. 

“Just – wanted to be alone for a while.” I clear my throat. 

“Oh, okay,” he says, turning to leave, and – I don’t want him to go. I want him here, next to me. 

“No, stay!” The words escape my mouth before I can think twice. I didn’t mean to sound so eager, to beg him to stay with me, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He shuts the door, smiling as he comes closer and sits next to me on the bed. The room is quiet around us. Somehow it’s easier to breathe when he’s next to me. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t lean on him this way. This is the world where you have to survive on your own. There are no friends, no one to hold you when you fall, that’s how I was taught to see this world. 

But he is here, and the offer is so tempting I can’t resist it. An offer to carry a tiny bit of that weight on my shoulders, make it that bit easier for me. He is my friend and he’s there for me. 

“It should’ve been you,” he finally breaks the silence.

“Instead of who?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, knowing full well that there isn’t an answer to my question. The team has four places for the competition, and none of those four are for me.

“Wanna talk about it?”

To a teammate I’d say no. To a teammate you can show your disappointment, frustration maybe, but nothing more. But he’s not being my teammate at the moment, he’s my friend, and to a friend you can show much more. 

He has seen me cry after Lahti, I have seen him falling to pieces. With him it’s safe to let my guard down, he will never hold that against me. 

So I tell him. About how much it hurts not to be part of the team despite the brilliance of my training jumps. Of the deep nagging feeling in my stomach, the memories that haunt me. Of Lahti. Of Oberstdorf. And he listens, doesn’t interrupt or offer his opinion, just listens, because he knows I don’t want to hear the comforting words, I just need to talk, confess my feelings out loud. It helps, it always does.

In the end I’m exhausted, completely drained, and I’m weak enough to give up to the yarning in my chest. I lean my head against his shoulder and he automatically wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer.

“You know Oberstdorf wasn’t your fault. Neither was Lahti,” Andi murmurs against my hair. 

“Liar,” I smile as I say it. He’s usually the one calling me out on lying, teasingly saying I couldn’t lie if my life depended on it.

“We win as a team and lose as a team,” he reminds me again, the words he has said to me countless times before. “And officially I’m saying you need to forget those competitions and move on. But yeah, I get it.” I know he does. It’s not that I’m living in the past, dwelling on the memories and dreams of what could’ve been. I’ve made my peace with those failures. And maybe others can forget their failures completely and live on without the gnawing memories, but I’m not one of those people. There’s always that tiny part of me nagging my own self-confidence. Andi knows that, he gets that, and he understand my need for reassurance.

He runs his fingers along my arm, breaths steadily next to me, and I close my eyes. It’s safe with him, everything is safe with him.

I must have nodded off since the next thing I realize is a door banging open and Markus shouting something about late night dinner.

“Fuck off,” Andi snaps as I blink my eyes open. He rubs my arm, soothing. Markus seems to be taken aback, and I don’t blame him. Andi rarely curses.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. “Is he alright? Are you alright?” he asks me as I lift my head from Andi’s shoulder. 

“Do you want some cookies? Or condoms?” he offers. There is an opened pack of cookies on his left hand, a bunch of condoms on his other hand. That is a very weird combination of things to have in your hands, but then again it’s Markus so it doesn’t really come as a surprise.

“Why would he need condoms?” Andi asks.

“Seriously, Andi? Safe sex is important,” Markus enlightens as he throws a bunch of condoms at us. “Do you want to come to dinner with me? I’m hungry.”

Andi turns to me, a question in his eyes, and I would like to say no. I want to keep him with me a moment longer, keep us in this bubble where it’s just the two of us and the outside world is a distant buzz around us. But I know I can’t keep him, can’t live in my own safe, little bubble.

“Just give me ten minutes,” I mutter. Ten minutes to collect myself, to build the guard back around me. Ten minutes to remind myself that Andi is just being a good friend by sitting next to me, letting me sleep on his shoulder. A good friend.

Not my future boyfriend.

~x~

It’s almost comical how the tables can turn so quickly. One day it’s me needing support, two days later it’s he who needs someone to talk to. He’s been tossing and turning in his bed for the last half an hour and I’ve been laying on my own bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to open his mouth. He’s stubborn, though, keeping quiet, and I start to zone out.

“Stephan?” I finally hear him whisper from his bed as I’ve nearly fallen asleep.

“Hnnh?” I murmur against my pillow.

”Are you awake?”

”Kind of.”

”Really?” he keeps insisting, and I know he is going to bug me until I truly am awake.

”Mmh, yeah.” I stifle my yawn as I turn my head towards him. I can’t see a lot in the darkness, just his silhouette as he lays on his side on the bed. 

“I can’t sleep.” He doesn’t whisper anymore but his voice is still quiet.

”Do you want me to knock you out?” I ask and rub my eyes. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t seem to be even smiling, and that worries me.

“No, I – “ he begins. “I’m scared.” 

That gets me to open my eyes fully. Concern is creeping into my mind, my thoughts already trying to figure out how I can help him.

Things is as a ski jumper getting scared is pretty much a taboo. 

You can get nervous, you can get stressed. You can even get a bit anxious before the competitions. But you can’t get scared. Being scared is not allowed. When you walk up to the tower, put your skis on and sit in the pole waiting for your turn there can’t be any fear in your mind. The hills are brutal, they’ll know if you are scared and they aren’t afraid of making you pay for it.

You need to respect the hills, never fear them.

I turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He lays in his bed, tangled in the sheets around him, and blinks at me. 

“Andi – “ I start.

“No, I know,” he interrupts. “It’s not even – it’s not the jumping I’m scared of. It’s the – it’s having a chance, I guess.” He is quiet for a moment, seems to be thinking about what he just said. “Sorry.” He’s thinking about the conversation we had the other say. Of chances and getting them. He’s afraid of getting his, I didn’t even get mine.

“God, I feel like an idiot now.” Andi lets out a bitter laugh. “Here I am whining because I get to jump tomorrow, when you don’t even – “ He’s quiet for a moment. “You’d be so much better than me.”

“Hey, no, stop that.”

“It’s true.”

“I get nervous as well,” I remind him. “That is probably why Schuster didn’t give me a spot. I try too much.” I know that, I know my weaknesses. My training jumps – they were good, I like the hill in here, I feel like I got a good touch to it. There were almost nothing wrong with my jumps. Almost. 

I watched my jumps yesterday. After the announcement, after dinner, I opened the video and watched the jumps. I wanted to analyze them, see the errors the coach saw. 

And I saw them.

There was this little gnawing thought I had during the take-off. The voice in my head yelling that I had to success, a compulsion that left no other choice. Schuster saw that in my jumps, saw the compulsion, the way my body was too stiff in the in-run. 

There are no room for errors in the team that is competing to be the best in the world. We have to thrive for perfection, anything less and you’re out. It’s cruel, it’s brutal. It’s how life is in this world.

“What if I’m going to blow it again? Like last year?” he whispers, finally getting out the fear on his mind.

Like Raw Air, he means. When the conditions gave 60 000 euros to a different man and left him in tears for the world to see. No one deserves that kind of disappointment. Losing in front of the world, letting the disappointment shred you to pieces leaving you open and vulnerable for the bloodthirsty media.

I held him in my arms when he wept, and I wanted to give him something – anything – to help him build himself back together. I couldn’t give anything but my comfort, he had to do everything else by himself. And learn from it.

It’s easy to forget that he’s only 22 when he has already been in the team for years and years. But he’s still so young, still adjusting to the spotlight of a superstar, still trying to find himself while also competing for top results among men that are five, seven, ten years older than him. 

“Come here.” I sit up on my bed and I hold out my hand for him to take. 

“What?” he squeaks. 

Yeah, he’s right: _what?_ What am I doing, I need to stop. Inviting him to my bed is a really bad idea.

“Come here.” I pat my bed. Seriously, I have a death wish. Having him close is never good. I get ideas in my head, dangerous ideas leading to dangerous reactions from my body. 

Having him close is never good for me. But it’s good for him. He likes having people close, he’s always hugging everyone, always sneaking to have a cuddle with people, that is what he needs, what he loves, and touch is what he is going to get even if I have to drag him next to me and die from embarrassment when my own body will betray me.

Turns out I don’t have to drag him anywhere. He comes willingly, lays carefully next to me, facing me as I wrap my arms around him. It’s a bit awkward, and he nearly kicks me in the crotch when trying to arrange his gangly limbs.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says, and I laugh as I look at him. He is so close his nose is nearly touching mine. He’s blinking at me, looking every bit as young as he is in the soft light of the bedside lamp. There’s the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as he leans closer, resting his head on my pillow. He seems comfortable, content of being close, legs tangled with mine. 

It’s times like these when I dare to hope for the impossible, hope that maybe it’s not just my dreams and fantasies, things I imagine in my head. It’s so easy having him close, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close to me. It’s never been this easy with anyone else. It’s been awkward and uncomfortable and the sex hasn’t even been that great in years. 

“It’s not going to be like last year,” I say shaking away the images of my previous partners. “No, listen to me.” I press my finger to his lips when he tries to interrupt. “It’s this year, new chance, and if you blow it, the world will still be fine. _You_ will still be fine.”

“And you’ll be there no matter what, right?” 

What a stupid question. I don’t dare to say that to him though, because he seems to be genuinely concerned about that.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shifts a bit, leans closer and his nose touches my bare arm as he nuzzles into better position.

“I just – last year,” he trails off and won’t look at me in the eye. “Like – I’m just thinking about what Krafti and Michael went through.”

“What happened between them anyway?”

“A bunch of misunderstandings, I think. But – I mean, remember the final day of Raw Air last year?”

Yes, I do remember that. Kraft won everything, Andi was in tears, and I couldn’t help him. I held him in my arms, tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He wanted us gone, he didn’t want to be near any of us, and as I let him go, he went straight to Kraft. 

That hurt.

That I couldn’t be the person he wanted near him at that moment. That he rather went to Kraft than stayed with me. 

He didn’t come back to our room that night. I still don’t know where he was. 

“They had had this huge fight before the competition,” Andi mutters. “And after Krafti won, Michael wasn’t even there to congratulate him, and yeah, they made up in the end, but I sat with him that night after he won, and he was as miserable as I was. It was ridiculous.” He rambles on about loneliness and tells me that he had decided at that moment that ski jumping would be the only one for him. That he wouldn’t want his successes be stained with unhappy memories of his personal life. He blinks at me, biting his lip.

“But I need to know that you’ll be there,” he says in the end, and I don’t know what to make of it. Am I the exception to his rule? Or am I just part of his professional life, part of his success?

“I’ll be there,” I say anyway, because that is the truth. Whatever it means to him, whatever I am for him, I’ll be there.

~x~

I wake up to Richi’s voice.

“Guys, do you want to explain yourselves?” 

No, is the first thing on my mind before I’m even awake enough to understand what the hell he wants me to explain. I pull Andi tighter against me and – oh right. Andi is still here. In my bed, snuggling up to me, and his steady breath is tingling my neck as the rest of our team stands on our door looking at us.

Great. Take my daydream and make it a nightmare. 

I nudge Andi’s shoulder as I roll away from him, and he opens his eyes as the warmth of my body leaves him.

“Good morning,” he mumbles blinking drowsily. His hair is sticking to every possible direction and he has been drooling all over my neck for the better part of the night. 

He’s adorable.

“Morning,” I say, resisting the urge to gently stroke his cheek. He likes people touching him but that’d be weird, I think. Instead I press myself closer to the wall behind me and untangle my feet from his. This is bad, very bad. I should’ve kicked him off my bed last night, not let him sleep over. 

“Um, guys?” Richi’s voice finds us again. 

“Why are there condoms all over the floor?” Karl wants to know.

“Oh, I gave them to Stephan earlier,” Markus answers. He mutters something about safe sex and Olympic rules again. Apparently Karl hasn’t heard of the sex rule yet and it gets him concerned. I can practically feel the worry radiating off him as they start quietly arguing if it’s really a rule of not. Markus insists it is, Karl is doubtful, and Richi refuses to take part in the conversation.

They are quickly ruining my morning, and I want them gone. 

Andi is the only one I want here with me. I want this to be our moment, I want this to be my future. Us two, alone in bed enjoying a lazy morning. In those dreams there isn’t half a team standing on the doorway staring at us waiting to hear the explanation for us sleeping in the same bed.

“That looks kind of cozy, I want to join,” Markus mutters next to Richi. That drags me out of my dreams.

“Don’t you dare.” I glare at him. I can totally imagine Markus jumping on us, wanting to join the cuddle. I’m trying to scramble up. Andi makes it difficult, his hand is wrapped around me, and he’s looking at me, like he doesn’t quite know what is going on. 

“Why Andi is allowed then?” he challenges.

“He had a bad dream about failing the Olympics.” That is partly true, and it seems to wake Andi up. He sneers and pulls his hand away, getting up.

“Also Stephan needed someone to comfort him because he doesn’t get to jump today,” he adds because he doesn’t want to be the only one to need comfort. 

“Win-win situation,” I nod at our teammates. Richi looks suspicious, Karl is still trying to get Markus to tell him more about the sex rule and when Markus doesn’t pay attention to his worries, he wanders off muttering to himself about possible partners. I remind myself to talk with him before Markus introduces The List to him. 

And speaking of Markus, he’s standing in the doorway staring at us. Andi is yawning, and I’m trying to steal the duvet to myself so I can hide my morning wood from them. 

This is not how I pictured waking up with Andi would be like although I should’ve known. With my luck there won’t ever be lazy mornings and slow kisses between us. This is the best I can get: an awkward morning wood and the team arguing about whether you need to have sex during the Olympics or not.

Whoever said reality is better than imagination was wrong.

It’s definitely worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the kudos/comments, they mean the world to me <3 So sorry it has taken me so long with this chapter, it's been a nightmare to tackle, but apparently with five cups of tea and enough chocolate anything is possible, so here's chapter four!

Betrayal, that’s what this is. No one told me it would be so cold in Korea. 

The wind has been blowing the whole night, and I’m dying. Watching others compete when you don’t have that chance is never fun, but it’s even worse when you’re slowly freezing to death. I lost the feeling of my toes half an hour ago, and escaping to our waxing cabin to warm up between the rounds is not an option, because someone has locked me out. 

That someone is Markus, who is yelling something about emergency and condoms, when I bang at the door. His words scare me off. I don’t want to lose my fingers, but I also don’t want to know what the hell Markus is doing inside our cabin. It’s not like I should be there anyway. I’m not jumping today so technically I’m not allowed to be there in the way of others, but it’s so bloody cold outside. I need to get inside otherwise I swear I will lose my fingers. My toes might already be lost.

I’m desperate, that’s what I tell myself when I weigh my options. So desperate that breaking into the cabin next to ours seems to be a good idea. It’s either that or dying, and I rather not die right now, as I'd like to watch also the second round of the competition. The door squeaks as I sneak in, and I can't help but smile as I feel the warmth inside.

I get to enjoy that approximately two seconds, before I realize the sight in front of me, and clearly dying would’ve been the better choice here. Why does my luck keep acting like this? I literally could've chosen any cabin of the long line of them, but I just had to choose this one. The one with maximized chances of having awkward encounters. I stare at the sight in front of me, blinking to make sure it's real and not just a twisted hallucination of my mind.

They have frozen in their places, clearly surprised of seeing a German tourist in their cabin during the break between the rounds. I don’t blame them. I would be surprised as well, if I’d see a Norwegian randomly popping into our cabin in the middle of the competition. 

I clear my throat as heat rises to my cheeks.

“Uh. Sorry,” I start. “I got locked out of our cabin and it’s freezing outside.” Deciding it’s best to go with the truth I blink at them.

“This is not what it looks like,” Tande assures immediately, not even listening to what I say. Forfang hits his arm.

“Shut up, how do you know what does it look like. What does it look like?” He turns to ask me.

“Um,” I say, eloquent as always. They are standing on the chairs in the middle of the cabin. Tande is leaning against the other boy, his back pressed to Forfang’s front. Forfang has his arms around the other one, his chin resting on Tande’s shoulder. The cabin is empty apart from them, and I feel like I’ve ruined something by interrupting their moment.

The two Norwegians stare at me for a while, but when it comes apparent I’m not going to say anything more, they turn back to each other. Tande lets out a nervous laugh, while Forfang starts to murmur to him quietly in Norwegian. I don’t know why he goes through the effort of being quiet as I wouldn’t understand him anyway.

I kind of just stand there. They haven’t asked me to leave, and while I would love to escape the uncomfortable situation, it’s so warm inside the cabin that I don’t want to leave yet. My frozen fingers have started to tingle, and I’m pretty sure I can feel part of my toes again. 

I stand there about two minutes, listening to them speaking to each other in hushed voices. They haven’t moved, still standing on the chairs hugging each other, and it looks nice and cozy. Maybe it’s their way of relaxing between the rounds, relieving a bit of that stress. It looks like it’s working, they seem to be completely relaxed.

Maybe I should try that too during the next competition. Instead of warming up and analyzing the results from the first round, I could just stand in our cabin hugging Andi. 

Hmm. The idea is tempting. Andi always knows how to make me feel better, even his words help usually, I can just imagine what it’d be like to have his arms wrapped around me. It wouldn’t be really professional, though, but who cares about professional if he’d get me to calm down between rounds and stop overanalyzing my jumps.

I’ve lost in my own head again, not even realizing the door behind me has opened, before the person coming in speaks.

“Oh. Hi,” Anders nods at me as he closes the door. He doesn’t seem to be surprised to see me in their cabin. Then again knowing the reputation of their team, a lost German is probably not the most surprising thing he has seen during his time in the team. The thought is oddly comforting. “Did they kidnap you? Or are you just lost again?” he asks before snapping something to his teammates in Norwegian. Forfang lets go of Tande and drops down from the chair. He mutters something to Anders. I understand the word Heimlich and – oh, was that what they were doing? Tande frowns from the chair he’s still standing on. So does Anders.

“But he wasn’t actually chocking?” he questions in English.

“Of course I wasn’t,” Tande snaps as he jumps down from the chair as well. “And what do you mean is he lost again?” He glances at me. 

“Yeah, we go way back,” Anders answers. He turns to grin at me, and I know what he’s thinking. It was ages ago, and I can’t believe he still remembers. But of course he does, because it was an awkward situation, and no one ever forgets my awkward situations. “I once found this one snooping our suits. In Hinterzarten, was it? During the Junior WSC. Said he was lost.”

“I was!” 

Truly, I was. At eighteen, I got lost as easily as Karl does now. Easier even. My sense of direction was nonexistent, and it wasn’t my fault that the cabins were badly marked. It was one mistake, and I was so concentrated on the competition that I didn’t even notice I was in the wrong cabin until I couldn’t find my own suit and Anders barged in demanding to know what I was doing there.

“Yeah right, isn’t that your home hill?” Anders lifts his brows at me.

“Not back then it wasn’t,” I correct him.

“Well, anyway. The next day our team was out of the second round because Klaus was disqualified. Those suits were just fine the day before.” Anders looks at me, grinning. I can feel the smile forming on my own face too. He’s one of those people who just make you feel at ease, and he’s right: we go way back. I know when he’s only having a laugh.

“I didn’t do it!” I stand by my story. Anders doesn’t look convinced.

“Yeah, well, if I were you, I’d check my suit for the second round,” Anders says to his teammates, grinning. He’s joking of course, but Forfang looks immediately concerned and scampers to his suit. Anders laughs, and I can’t help but grin as well.

Anders turns to say something to Tande in Norwegian, and the blond man sprints off as well.

“Sorry, had to remind him he still has one round to go,” Anders turns to me.

“Oh, yeah, I should go too,” I realize that the competitions is probably about to start soon again.

“You don’t have to,” Anders shrugs and smiles at me. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want. It’s nice to have a sane person here for once.”

I return his smile. His offer sounds genuine, and I don’t feel like I’m unwanted here, a burden. Anders goes on complaining about not having anyone sensible to talk to in his team. 

“You should just be lucky Halvor is not here,” Tande points out. We turn to him, and I have to blink my eyes twice. He’s standing in front of us in his boxers, scratching his stomach as he blinks to Anders. Anders groans.

“Please cover yourself, we have a guest,” he snaps, and only then does Tande seem to realize that I’m still in the cabin.

“Oh,” he says and mostly covers himself with the nearest available object. It happens to be Forfang’s suit, and the younger man doesn't seem to like Tande using his suit for cover. He snaps something at Tande, who retorts something back. As they start bickering, Anders sighs. Looking at me he rolls his eyes. See what I have to endure, he seems to say. 

It makes me smile, but I’m starting to feel I’m in the way of their usual chaos. I say that much to Anders who has now found a jumper and is forcing it on Tande. Tande is drowning inside the jumper but is still trying to continue arguing with Forfang. He’s talking to the wrong direction, as Forfang has already disappeared to the corner of the room with his suit. 

“See you again,” I say.

“Come back anytime,” Anders calls after me. As I close the door behind me, I can hear him shouting something to the others. The cabin fells silent after that.

The air outside is as freezing as before. White puffs of my breath disappears in the air as I start walking back to the stands. I manage to take ten steps, before someone crashes into me.

It’s Markus, of course. No one else storms around the backstage area that way. It seems like he has more or less survived the earlier emergency, whatever it was. 

“What were you doing in the Norwegian cabin?” Markus asks, suspicious. He straightens my hat which has nearly fallen off my head when he ran into me. His eyes widen comically when he looks past me, and I turn just in time to see Anders exit the cabin as well. I can almost see the wheels spinning in Markus’ head. 

“Short and serious! He’s on The List!” 

“Can you stop with The List already?” I ask, exasperated. 

“No,” Markus answers. “We need to get you a boyfriend, remember. I’m going to go talk to him.” He tries to leave, but I grab his arm before he can escape.

“You can’t now, you’re late already,” I remind him. I have no idea what time is it, but if Anders is making his teammates get ready, I should probably do the same to mine. 

“Oh, shoot, you’re right,” he notices and sprints off after I let him go – to a different direction than Anders, thank heavens. I can only wish he’d forget Anders during the final round. With my luck that doesn’t seem likely.

~x~

My teeth start to chatter during the final round, partly because of the cold, partly because I’m so nervous for Andi’s sake. He’s leading after his jump, and he’s still leading after Richi’s jump. Forfang does really well but he has no chance of challenging Andi. It’s the normal hill and in these hills the meters are ever more valuable.

Andi is a medalist. 

He’s going to get his second Olympic medal. There are only two Poles up in the tower, and Andi stands in the leader box, waiting. It’s the worst part, having to watch the others. You’ve done your part and can’t do anything but wait. It’s nerve-racking. 

I start biting my lip as I wait for Stoch to come. He has won everything during the season, a clear favorite to sweep the board in the Olympics too. 

He ends up fourth. Fourth!

And then there is one more, and 105,5 meters can’t be enough.

It’s not, and there are tears in my eyes and too many emotions in my head at once. I’m so proud of him and is this even real, and why am I not where he is. In the leader box, there he stands. Meters and meters away from me surrounded by our team, I’ve never felt so envious of the others. They get to be there, first ones to congratulate him, while I’m here: close, but not close enough.

The backstage is an absolute chaos as I try to find my way closer. It’s easier said than done, and having a German team jacket is not helping at all. People keep stopping me to congratulate as if I would somehow have had any influence on Andi winning the gold medal.

Well done, good job, congratulations, they say.

Out of my way, I want to shout back. I didn’t do anything, it’s not my victory, it’s all his and I need to be there. I need to be there for him, get my share of that joy, steal a taste of that victory from his lips –

Uh, no! No kissing, remember?

No kissing, right. He’s not mine to kiss. He’s not mine, period, but I need to have my share of him. I just need him.

It’s not hard to find him as he is in the center of the thickest crowd of congratulating people. The hardest part is to get to him. The mixed zone is impossibly full of people, jumpers and officials and media all in thesame chaos, and although I have the access to the area, today I would just be in the way. So I force myself to wait.

I watch him hug others, swipe his tears away, accept congrats, and I want to be there, next to him, so badly it hurts. 

It feels like an eternity, to wait for him to find me, but then he’s there, standing in front of me.

“Stephan,” he whispers, his voice breaking, and there might be tears in my own eyes when I finally get him in my arms. I try to blink them away. This is stupid. I’m not crying over this. He’s drying his tears against my shoulder, and I don’t have any words for him. I pull him closer, hug him tighter, keep him near me, away from the madness around us. He’s mine, if only just for a few seconds before I have to let him go again.

He pulls back after a moment, looks at me with fresh tears in his eyes and smiles.

In a perfect world, it would be simple.

I could lean in, kiss him, hold him forever. I want to. 

No kissing, I have to remind myself again. Deep breaths, blinding smile, no kissing, he’s not mine!

Yet, there’s this insatiable need to hold him closer. I pull him back against me, wrap my arms around him. There’s about ten layers of clothes between us, I need them gone. I need to feel him, feel every part of him against me. 

I lean closer watching his expression as I move. He’s smiling, still smiling when I get so close that I can almost touch his nose with my own. There’s a curious little glimmer in the corner of his eyes, but he keeps on smiling, cocks his head a bit to the side as if waiting for me to make the final move. I hear the distant hum of the world around us, but nothing matters at this moment but him. Smiling at me, leaning against me, being mine for the moment in time. 

I lean in to kiss his cheek. I taste the salty tears, feel the coldness against my lips.

It’s not a perfect world, and this is all I have a permission to do in this reality. I clear my throat as I pull back a bit. 

“I’m so happy for you, love,” is what comes out of my mouth next.

Well, isn’t this just great. 

Love.

When he stands near me, with that look on his face, smiling at me like I was the only other person in the world, it’s easy to slip. The line between my fantasies and the reality gets blurred, and I’m not staring at my best friend, I’m staring at the dream of getting to keep him forever. I’ve tried to be so careful, not to slip, not to mix the reality with my fantasies, because it would drive me crazy, thinking what could be, if I’d live in my dream world. 

I want to melt through the ground for slipping that way. I grit my teeth together as regret runs through me. At the end of the day, it’s the reality that is more important to me than any dreams. I need to keep him as my friend, that is the reason I haven’t told him any of my stupid fantasies before and that is why I will keep them a secret in the future too.

Because I can’t lose what I have, lose my friend. 

I can’t lose him.

“Naww, Stephan!” he answers, laughing, and the spell between us seems to break. He pats my cheek before turning away to accept congratulations from someone else, and yeah, isn’t that just great?

I love my life.

~x~

We are watching from the sidelines, there’s a madness going on. The German House is full of people, every one of them celebrating the gold medals that Andi and Laura won today. We lost Andi to the crowd the moment we arrived. They whisked him away, stole him fromus.

There’s laughter and beer and people full of joy. I’m mostly watching from my own little corner, happy to be part of his celebration from the sidelines. I don’t need to be in the middle of it, I don’t want to be. The spotlight is his tonight, no one else’s.

It’s late, past everyone’s bedtime, when Richi comes to me, dragging Andi along with him.

“Here,” he says when he’s close enough so I can hear him through the noise. “All yours, you’re welcome.” He shoves Andi to me. He stumbles, and I catch him before he can fall. Richi flees as soon as he sees Andi is safely in my arms.

“Hi,” he smiles at me, then frowns. “I missed you.”

“Didn’t know you had time to miss anyone up there.” I nod to the stage where Andi has been the better part of the night, celebrating his gold medal. An individual Olympic gold medal. That’s still hard to believe to be true.

“Always have time to miss you,” he mumbles to my hair. 

“I was planning on going to bed, you know.” It’s late and I’m tired. Karl just went to get our coats so we could leave.

“Noooo,” he whines. 

“Maybe you should come too.”

“To your bed?”

Well, that’s a thought.

“No, dumbass, to your own bed.”

“I like your bed better. It has you in it,” he mutters. I force myself to laugh. He has been drinking, of course he has. He is an Olympic champion, he has the right to drink a few beers. And he’s tired. He has been drinking and he’s tired. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

So stop imagining him naked in your bed, Stephan!

Sated, happily cuddling next to me, running his fingers on my chest because he knows I like light touches after sex, he smiles at me. Don’t you just love the images my brain comes up with sometimes? I don’t. 

Karl is the one to save me. Have I told you I love Karl? Because I do. He is nice and safe and I don’t want to have sex with him. Also he brings me my coat and asks if I’m ready to leave. Yes, I am. Take me away from Andi, away from these images that are too vivid in my head. What is wrong with me today? 

“No, don’t go,” Andi begs quietly as I try to wrestle myself free from his arms. He doesn’t let me go, instead he proceeds to kiss my neck. Karl lifts his brows, as I let out a strangled laugh. 

“You are very drunk,” I state and force myself to push him away. 

“I only had one beer. Or two,” he mumbles. 

“Maybe we should take him with us,” Karl mutters, concerned. “He seems a bit – “ He shrugs, and yeah, I agree. We can’t leave him here alone.

“Do you want to leave with us?” I ask. 

“Want you,” he mumbles and clearly he’s out of his mind. I laugh at his words, pat his shoulder and push him to Karl. Away from me.

“You watch him, I’m going to go find his coat,” I tell Karl and sprint away as fast as I can. 

I don’t stop until I’ve reached an empty corridor near the toilets. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. 

Deep breaths, you can do this.

The things he’s saying, they are playing right to my fantasies, and I know that at some level he means what he says. He’s my best friend, and I’m – well. I’m important to him, I know that. That’s what he means, when he says those things, nothing more.

Nothing more!

He’s happy, he wants to celebrate with his friends. He wants us to be there, not leave him to celebrate alone with others.

I just – I wish he’d mean what he says. I wish I’d get to take him back to our room, back to my bed and strip him from his clothes. I wish I’d get cuddle up with him in the bed, hold him in my arms as he kisses me. I wish I’d get to kiss him, show him how proud I am of him. 

The tears burn in my eyes.

It’s getting too far.

There’s a line he drew between us when we first came friends. That line I crossed long ago. But there’s another line, a line I drew myself. It’s a line between what is real and what is a dream. And as difficult as it is, I know not to cross that line. I know that a dream of having sex with him, waking up next to him, making him coffee in the mornings and doing all kinds of domestic things with him is only that: a dream.

He doesn’t seem to know that though, doesn’t seem to know how to not cross the line I’ve drawn between us, and that is a problem.

Because that side of him, the one who wants me as much as I want him, is not supposed to be real, and it’s messing with my head.

I want it to be real.

I know it never can be.

~x~

It’s difficult, returning to them, reminding myself what is real and what is not. Karl notices something’s wrong, Andi is too busy accepting congratulations to notice much else than me handing his coat to him.

We are all exhausted when we get back to our apartment. The way back felt longer than it was. We had to stop every other minute, because someone needed to congratulate Andi.

Andi is nodding off in the elevator. He tried to do that against my shoulder but I pushed him away. The touch from him was too much so soon after the meltdown I had. Karl accepted to responsibility of taking care of him without protesting. Karl is my favorite person in the whole world tonight.

He makes Andi take off his clothes and take a quick shower. I’m hiding in Karl’s room as Andi keeps mumbling about me not being there for him. He sounds pathetic. My heart is breaking, bit by bit.

Oh, I’ll be there for him. When he is safely in his bed with clothes on again. Or tomorrow morning when he’s rested and sober and not drunk on beer and Olympic gold. Tomorrow when he acts like himself again and doesn’t try to walk across the lines I’ve drawn.

“What did he drink?” Karl takes off his coat as he comes into the room. “He’s totally wasted.”

“I don’t know, beer? Maybe it’s the winning that makes him out off his mind. And it’s pretty late,” I shrug and force myself to laugh.

“Hmm,” Karl mutters and glances at me. “He really wanted you to be there, you know.”

“He’s drunk and tired,” I say, avoiding his gaze. Karl hums, but doesn’t seem too interested in continuing the conversation. I truly love Karl. Markus wouldn’t let me get away so easily, and Richi would make weird noises to annoy the truth out of me. Karl lets me be, Karl is great.

Andi has been singing in the shower again. We hear him hum the national anthem as he pads towards our room. I wait for additional five minutes, give him time to get dressed. I’m not taking any chances of walking in on him naked this time. I’ve learned from the past. 

There was this one time – 

That is _not_ what you need to be thinking right now!

I hate my head.

When I finally find the courage to go back to my own room, Andi is lying in my bed, his face smashed into the pillow. He probably passed out the minute he touched the bed. 

I sigh as I change my clothes and stand between the two beds. There’s no way I can crawl in my own bed, I’m not sleeping with him again. The only other choice is to take his bed, and that is not much better solution. It already smells like him and it feels too familiar, too nice. Too much like those fantasies I should let go of.

I fall asleep in two minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, new season, new chapter! Sorry it takes me ages to update, life is pretty hectic at the moment, and I'm doing the best I can. Slowly but surely, eh?
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has commented/left kudos/still reading here <3 Every single note brings me so much happiness, can't thank you enough for that!!

Granted, lying awake in the bed staring at the ceiling and sneaking glances at sleeping Andi, is not the best way to spent the first half an hour after you wake up, yet that is what I end up doing before I can muster enough energy to get out of bed. While Andi is still drooling against my pillow, everyone else is already in the kitchen getting ready to leave for breakfast. Well, they are not so much getting ready as standing in a half circle looking mostly exhausted. 

Markus seems to be horribly hangover, he sways on his feet by the sink with a glass of water in his hand. Karl blinks sleepily as I come in, he tries to smile at me but ends up hiding a yawn. Richi is the only one who seems to be truly awake, although he came back much later than we did yesterday. I heard someone at the door around six in the morning, and I'm pretty sure Markus came back even later than that. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Richi greets me over his coffee mug. He’s weirdly addicted, has to have a morning coffee in our apartment before we go to have breakfast in the cafeteria. “What happened yesterday? Do I have to have a talk with someone?”

“What? Nothing happened.” I glance at Karl, trying to read his mind. Has he told something about yesterday to Richi? There's nothing to tell about, is there? Besides Karl doesn’t usually even blabber about things, but who knows what he has said this time. It’s the Olympics after all, nothing is normal around here.

Karl doesn’t seem to notice my glances. He keeps looking at the clock, and I know he’s trying to decide the best time to leave for breakfast so he can avoid as much of the crowds as possible. Karl likes to eat in peace. There’s never a peaceful moment in the Olympic village, so he’s out of luck.

“You all just disappeared after I left Andi with you,” Richi says, squinting.

“Oh yeah, Andi was drunk so we took him to bed.” Karl tears his eyes away from the clock.

“All of you?”

“Yes,” Markus says quickly, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“No, Markus didn’t come with us,” Karl says at the same time.

“Yes, I did. I did!” Markus assures. I frown at him. He’s usually better at lying, there’s no way Richi won’t notice. 

“What did you do?” Richi sighs.

“Nothing,“ Markus mumbles over his glass of water. He's trying to look innocent, but I'm sure Richi will see right through his act.

“Try again,” Richi prompts. 

“A had a few beers.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay, three.”

“Really now?”

“Fine! Three and a half! I drank three and a half, and the last half wasn’t even mine. I stole it from some guy. And I lost my coat and ran home without it and some Norwegians might have seen me. And then I got stuck in the elevator, and I'm pretty sure I broke it while trying to get out. Oh look, there’s the golden boy!” Markus shouts before Richi can question his acts any further.

Andi looks utterly tired padding into the kitchen. He bumps into the counter and then to Richi because he too busy yawning to see where he’s going. Richi snarls at him over his coffee mug, but Andi seems to pay no mind to him while heading straight to me. He stops in front of me, blinks, and for a moment he looks like he doesn’t really know why he’s there, standing before me with that adorable, sleepy expression on his face.

He frowns, gnawing on his bottom lip, and I can feel the uncertainty bleeding off of him.

How much of yesterday is on his mind? How much does he remember of those lines that he tried to cross? How much does he remember of the promise I broke? 

“Are you alright?” I ask as he shifts awkwardly on his feet. It’s an easy question to ask in front of our teammates because I know he won’t answer that, not with words anyway, but I don’t need words from him to know he isn’t alright. There’s something on his mind, something is wrong.

He doesn’t answer at first, just gnaws his lip as he looks at me. I imagine seeing longing flash on his face, but it’s gone the second I try to look closer. He sways closer, too close.

Not close enough.

I wrap my arm around his shoulders when he looks like he’s about to fall. It’s an automatic reaction, to reach for him, be there for him as I should’ve been yesterday. 

He sighs and cuddles closer to me.

It’s easier today, having him close to me with the whole team around us making sure no lines are crossed. It is almost normal. Almost. I notice the way he grips the hem of my t-shirt, tries to pull himself closer to me without being too obvious. He rests his head on my shoulder, which must be a bit awkward for him as he is good ten centimeters taller than me. He’s quiet and timid, trying to use me as a shield against others: our Andi who faces everything with his head held high.

“Soooo. Nothing happened yesterday?” Richi gives me a weird look. He can see it as clearly as I can. Something’s wrong.

I shake my head a tiniest bit to him. No, I don’t know what it is. Andi is tired of course but that is not an excuse for the fresh Olympic champion to look like this: like there’s a world on his shoulders, a weight too heavy for him to carry alone. 

Andi sighs.

“I’m not feeling too well. I think it’s maybe the flu,” he answers finally, quietly rubbing his stomach. There’s a collective gasp echoing in the room and Richi, Markus and Karl all take five steps away from Andi as fast as they can. I don’t move, there’s no reason to do so. I stay where I am, pull Andi a bit closer to me and rub his arm as Markus - forgetting his hangover - starts complaining about germs in utter panic mode. 

I feel Andi smirking against my shoulder.

“Wait,” Richi squints at Andi. “You little shit.”

Andi bursts out laughing, tearing himself away from me, and I feel a smile forming on my own face when I watch the rest of the team realize Andi’s joke.

“How can you tell when he’s joking?” Karl complains to me. “I never know if he’s being serious or not.”

I shrug. “He’d never come near any of us if he’d indeed feel sick. Remember that one time in Innsbruck when he thought he might have gotten that stomach bug from the Austrians? I had to sleep in your room because he refused to let me in ours so he wouldn’t accidentally infect me in case he’d have had the bug.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Andi nods remembering the incident as well. “It was your best Four Hills Tournament so far, I couldn’t risk ruining it by giving you a bug.”

No, he couldn’t. I spent half an hour in the hallway begging him to let me inside our room. I’m pretty sure the Polish jumpers though I was crazy standing in the hallway talking to the closed door. They have been casting me weird glances ever since.

Andi goes on making his coffee – black with tiniest bit of sugar in it – laughing at something Markus is mumbling to him. I watch him pour the coffee into his mug and though he seems to be fine now, I can’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong earlier before he decided to make a joke out of the whole situation. He’d never confess anything in front of the team so I don’t ask, don’t pressure him into telling me what’s wrong. Instead I move next to him, touch his arm the tiniest bit just to tell him that I’m there for him, and that I’ll listen if he needs to talk.

He moves away from me, laughing at Markus while he does it, and if I didn’t know him, I’d thought that was just a coincidence. But I do know him, and I do know, he’s avoiding my eyes on purpose.

I turn away, hiding my frown from him, but Richi is standing right in front of me. He sees the hurt in my eyes, and I can see the questions he’s going to ask me later, there’s a bunch of them in his eyes.

“You know, Stephan wasn’t completely useless during the competition yesterday,” Markus decides to point out a few minutes later. He turns to grin at me, clearly feeling better after drinking a few glasses of water to cure his hangover. “I did a little research and turns out, it’s your lucky day, Stephan. Norwegians are quite open-minded. I have some condoms ready for you.”

“What?” Andi spins back to me, brows furrowed. There’s a weird expression on his face, one I can’t get a grasp on. It’s a mix of confusion, hurt, and – jealousy? 

No, don’t be an idiot, of course he’s not jealous.

Markus doesn’t notice anything as usual. He continues to go on about safe sex and the Norwegians.

“You know you don’t have to go to the Norwegians to get sex,” Andi mutters. He has moved to stand next to me again, his fingers gripping my shirt as he tries to pull me closer. This time, I refuse to move, and he keeps on pulling my shirt with a weird expression on his face.

“Who does he have to go to then?” Markus questions. “You?”

“I – “ Andi blushes. “You hate talking to foreigners,” he mutters not answering Markus’ question.

“How much do you talk during sex?” Markus laughs. “No, don’t answers that,” he continues immediately. “I don’t want to know.”

“Which one?” is what Andi asks next. His voice is quiet, unsure.

“Which one of what?” Markus questions.

“Which one of the Norwegians are you talking about?”

“Fannemel,” Markus answers. “Stephan already did the ground work himself apparently. I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Yeah, I – well not really, but – “ I stammer trying to find the right words. 

“It’s an easy question, Stephan,” Markus laughs, and that makes me blush. The words don't always come easily, and I hate it when someone points it out to me. 

“We hung out a couple of times during our junior years,” I end up saying. It’s mostly true. I don’t feel like explaining the whole getting lost story to him, not now anyway.

“Well, personally I think you could’ve done better, but as you refuse to let me talk about you to Ammann, I think we can borrow you to the Norwegians,” Markus sighs.

“No!” Andi exclaims immediately. “He’s ours. No borrowing! I – we need him.” 

“I don’t,” Richi mutters. He has been following our conversation quietly from the side.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Richi snaps and shakes his head. “You’re all idiots,” he declares and leaves the room.

~x~

Andi has interviews lined up for the whole day while the rest of us are free before the prize giving ceremony later that day.

Well, technically we are free the whole day, but no one wants to skip the medal ceremony although Richi does keep complaining about having to stand in the cold just to watch Andi receive a stupid peace of medal.

“You already have one of those,” he shouts to Andi who is getting ready to leave for media duties. Karl swats his shoulder, although we all know Richi is only joking. Andi gives him a finger from the door. I laugh as Richi mutters something about rudeness. 

The door closes behind Andi. Richi follows me to my room and flops down to Andi’s bed. I pay him no mind until I hear him talk.

“Did something happen yesterday with Andi? He was being weird in the morning.”

Yeah, I knew Richi wouldn’t let that go so easily, but I kept hoping he would, just this once. I don’t really want to talk with him about what could be wrong with Andi. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. But I do know that the conversation will eventually turn to me, and I don’t want that.

“He won an Olympic gold, that’s what happened,” I mutter avoiding his gaze.

“Haha, that’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Richi snaps. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No,” I tell him, because there isn’t anything. Not things he’d need to know anyway. He likes knowing things, I know that. He likes to feel in charge, help the team when he can, but I’d like to keep some things private. It’s not his place to help here, it’s me who needs to live with the mess I’ve created in my head. It’s my problem.

“Really?”

“Nothing happened,” I snap at him. “He was drunk. We got him back home with Karl. He went to bed.” My bed, I don’t tell Richi that. “End of story. He was probably just hangover this morning.”

“Andi doesn’t get hangovers,” Richi reminds me. Yeah, that’s true, he doesn’t. Lucky bastard. “Come on, Stephan,” he continues. “I’m not an idiot. Everyone can see you like him.”

“Yeah, so? He’s my best friend.”

“He’s more than a friend, though, isn’t he?”

Oh god. I can feel the panic crawling in my stomach. 

It’s not real, I remind myself. The feelings can’t be real, they are useless in this reality, and there’s no need to panic. Richi doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Richi doesn’t know anything.

“You need to tell him you’re in love with him,” Richi continues.

Yeah, he doesn’t know anything!

“I’m not in love with him. It’s just a stupid crush! It’ll pass.” It has to. There’s no other option. 

“Stephan.” I don’t like Richi’s voice. He keeps looking at me, I know it, but I don’t want to see the look on his face. I don’t want to hear the truth in his voice. Stop making it real, I want to shout. Can’t he understand how this conversation makes me feel? No, he can’t, he doesn’t understand, and I need to make him understand that so he will stop talking about it.

“I can’t tell him,” I whisper. Telling him makes it real, and it isn’t real. It can never be. There’s a perfect world out there, a different reality where everything is possible, but this reality is not it. In this reality I can admire from afar but I can never tell him. If him as a friend is all I can get in this reality, I need to have it. Telling him will take that away from me and I can’t have that. I need him, I need to have him in my life. 

“Why not?”

“Because!” I say and that is a perfectly good answer, isn’t it? Richi doesn’t seem to think so, he doesn’t understand. He lifts his brows at me, waiting. “What would you say if I told you I had a crush on you?” I try to get him to see it like I do.

“I’d be honored,” Richi answers immediately.

“Come on, be serious.”

“I am!” he exclaims. “Gosh, Stephan, you’re way out of my league, I’d be happy if you thought I’d be worth to look at.” He’s serious, I realize. It’s weird.

“Yeah, well,” I’m flustered. “Andi is way out of my league.”

“He is not, though.”

“Yes, he is.” Or maybe he’s not, it doesn’t matter because that’s not the point. The point is saying something to him will make it real. Saying something to him is admitting that I’ve failed him again, broken a promise I gave him years ago. Saying something makes it final, and final means shattered dreams. I don’t want to have that, I need those dreams. 

“Stop it, you’re an idiot!” Richi snaps. “He was asking for you yesterday, you know. Right after the results came and people started to pour in to congratulate him, he was asking where you were.”

And that – that _hurts_.

“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to be there with him!” I snap. “I’m not good enough, brave enough, or, I don’t know, _girl_ enough, I’m not enough!”

Richi stares at me. There might be pity in his eyes. I turn away. 

I wasn’t supposed to say that. Oh god, I wasn’t going to snap at him like that, but he’s trying to make this real and it can’t be real. It isn’t. In this reality, I’m not enough for Andi.

“I don’t think you get to decide that,” Richi mutters. 

“I’m not deciding anything, it’s the truth.” I don’t look at Richi but I can hear him grunting.

“For fuck’s sake! Can you get your head out our your ass for one second and actually see what's going on? You're so busy acting like a bloody martyr, you don't even realize how stupid you are. You are letting your insecurities ruin everything for you again, and you know, I'm just trying to help!”

“Well, don't. I don't need your help.”

“You know what, be that way then. Be miserable! All of you. See if I care. Fuck,” he mutters and gets up. “I need to call Sevi.”

“It’s six in the morning back home,” I point out, glancing at my phone to check the time.

“Yeah, well this is an emergency.”

“What’s an emergency?” Markus has crept in while we were talking.

“Go away,” I mutter, but Markus doesn’t realize much I mean those words. He thinks I’m not serious and he sits beside me on the bed when Richi runs away to call Severin. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. I hate Richi, I hate the world. I hate myself. Markus hums next to me and lets me have my peace for thirty second before complaining that he’s bored.

He makes me take a walk around the Olympic village with him. He keeps talking too much and insists on taking way too many pictures in front of the Olympic rings. He makes me do ridiculous poses around the rings, and I complain loudly before doing as he says.

When we get back to our apartment to get ready for Andi’s medal ceremony, I’m smiling, and Markus is gloating when he gets me to admit that I had fun despite the coldness and the photos and the talking. Karl informs us that Richi talked with Severin for two hours on the phone which explains the genuine smile on Richi’s face when he gets ready for the medal ceremony. He glances at me a few times but doesn’t say anything, just pats my arm when walking past me and I take it as an apology for trying to meddle in my business.

It’s a good day, after all.

Few hours later they hang a golden medal around Andi’s neck, and I refuse to admit that there are tears in my eyes. Andi is standing there, on the highest podium in the middle of two Norwegians, smiling as he listens to our national anthem. I’m so proud of him. Of my friend.

My _friend_.

~x~

“Stop slobbering all over it!” Andi snaps.

I can’t help myself. It’s big and shiny, and it looks so good against his chest. I take a step closer, reach out.

“Go away! I don’t want your fingerprints on it,” Andi huffs. The medal is cold against my fingers. From afar it looks so simple, but up close it’s more complex. There are engraved lines running across the medal, making the light dance on its surface.

“Not fair!” Markus complains, when Andi pushes him further away. “Why can Stephan touch it then?” 

I freeze, the medal in my hands. I hadn’t even realized I had gotten so close, standing right in front of Andi, too close to be comfortable. I glance at Andi. 

“Oh, sorry,” the guilt finds its way to my voice as I let the medal drop back against his chest. It snuggles against his chest, almost disappears underneath his open jacket, and I can’t have that. I push his jacket out of the way, adjust the medal on his chest. 

“No, don’t be,” Andi smiles at me, keeping me close with a hand on my sleeve. He's been smiling like that since we came back from the ceremony. My earlier conversation with Richi is already buried to the back of my mind, Andi's weirdness in the morning quickly forgotten when he stands next to me smiling that way. There are no memories in this moment, only him and I and the medal between us.

Richi and Karl got quickly bored of trying to get a closer look of the medal and disappeared to their rooms a while ago. Markus has been trying to get his hands on the medal, but Andi is pushing him away while pulling me closer. 

“Unlike you, Stephan can behave himself,” Andi says to Markus. “And he doesn’t try to steal it.”

“I might,” I mutter, tugging the medal a bit. Andi’s smile widens.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Andi agrees looking at me. He smiles. “So beautiful.”

“Oh, fuck you two,” Markus huffs, turning away from us. He slams the door of his room shut unnecessarily loud behind himself.

Andi doesn’t seem to pay any attention to Markus. He’s still smiling at me, and I can’t help but smile back. My fingers dance on the surface of his medal, and I really should stop touching it and back away, but it’s impossible to move. 

“Look, Stephan, last night when I won and you weren’t there,” Andi begins after we’ve been quiet for a few minutes. His words shatter the illusion of a bubble around us. The memories come back. I let him down yesterday.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt before he can continue any further. 

“I really wanted you to be there,” Andi whispers.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I wish – “

“What?”

I wish this was a different reality, one where I could kiss him right now. I wish this was a reality where I had been good enough to be there with him when he won. I wish I could be with him. There’s so many things I wish, but in this reality I can’t tell him any of those things. It's a dream no matter what Richi tries to keep telling me.

“I wish I had been there.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t even know,” I mutter.

“Stephan, I – “ his voice breaks, it makes me look at him. There’s fear in his eyes, and it kills me a bit. I don’t know what he is afraid of, but I do know I never want to see him scared like that. I take a step closer, run my hand along his arm. I’m here for you now, I want to say. I’m here for you forever, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t good enough to be there for you yesterday even though I promised you I would.

“I – “ he tries to find his voice, deep breath, he looks at me. “You know what I thought yesterday, right after I won?” he asks finally, grabs my hand and squeezes tightly, almost too tight. “I thought – “

I don’t notice the door opening until I hear a surprised cough. Richi stands frozen on the doorway, he blinks at us looking surprised. The expression on his face puzzles me until I realize how close Andi and I are standing. I take a step back, then another, just to be safe. 

“Uh, don’t mind me,” Richi grunts and squeezes past us. “I need some air.”

“It’s quarter to midnight,” I point out.

“Yeah, so? It’s not like we have a curfew here. You just continue – whatever that was that you were doing.” He waves his hand in the air.

“We weren’t doing anything.” I need to say that out loud, force myself to believe it. This is nothing, nothing else than me admiring his medal and him reminding me that I broke my promise to him yesterday.

“Yeah, uh,” Andi agrees coughing a bit. “I need to find a place for this,” he mutters. Richi lifts his brows to me before disappearing out of the door. Andi slips out of the hallway as well. 

I find myself alone.

In this reality it seems like I’m always left alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys, so sorry again it has taken me such a long time with this chapter! I had some minor setbacks with this one, always remember to save your works so you don't end up losing half a chapter, aslkskjg. You'd think I'd have learned that by now, but apparently not... Anyway, thank you again for all the kudos and comments and for being so patient with how slow I am with these chapters, you are the best <3

It’s freezing again. The cold breeze feels like it’s blowing right through me although I have six layers of clothes on. I’ve buried my face in scarves. Markus thinks it’s rather hilarious. I cannot find anything hilarious about freezing to death, but Markus’ mind has always been a weird place. I’d complain about it to Andi but he is nowhere to be found. He ran off the moment we got to the hill. I think he went to look for the Austrians. He shouted something about Kraft to Karl, when Karl tried to make him stay with us. Karl doesn’t like us wandering off, mainly because he hates being left alone. He has absolutely no sense of direction. I have no doubt he’d get lost if we’d leave him alone.

So I stay with Karl and make Markus stay as well so he doesn’t have a chance to get in trouble. Richi nods at me, grateful for the opportunity I’m giving him. He sprints off before I have time to change my mind.

I don’t mind babysitting Markus. For the most part it’s fine. He’s too invested in the ladies competition so he doesn’t have time to think about creating chaos. Troubles start when the first round is finished and Markus gets bored. He starts whining about it while I’m trying to warm myself up by jumping up and down. Karl is muttering something about the results beside me, and I get distracted.

It only takes two seconds and Markus yelling something about potential boyfriend candidates. I quickly turn towards him.

”Markus, no – ” I try to grab his arm. Too late, he’s already gone, lost in the crowd, while I’m just standing there, stunned.

“Richi told you not to lose him,” Karl reminds next to me. Yes, I remember. Losing Markus is always risky, and after what happened the other day with the elevator and whatever else, Richi doesn’t want Markus to wander off alone. He’s going to blame me, if Markus ends up doing something stupid. I promised to watch him, so he is my responsibility. Or that is how Richi will see it.

”If you are going after him, I’m going with you,” Karl announces. ”You’re not leaving me alone.”

I think about not going. I don’t feel like chasing Markus around the mixed zone even if that would mean hearing Richi’s scolding later, but then I see him – and I swear if I was melodramatic, I’d say my heart skips a beat.

Oh what the hell: my heart skips a beat.

Markus has The List in his hand, and he’s showing it to Anders who is standing beside him few meters away. 

Oh god. 

This is bad, so very bad. 

If he talks about the possibility of finding me someone to have sex with to Anders, I’m never going to be able to look Anders in the eye ever again. Or any Norwegian for that matter, they probably share everything in their team. I’m going to have to quit my career in ski jumping, because everyone will know me as the guy who was so desperate for sex that he made his teammate go around trying to find potential partners. I will have to escape to live in the middle of some forest because the media will harass me so much. I will never see Andi again, because who wants to be friends with someone as desperate as I am? 

My brain is switching to full-on panic mode. I can’t breathe. My heart starts to beat faster, I can feel the panic crushing my insides, I can’t feel my toes – well. 

That is probably because of the cold, not the panic, but anyway. I’m going to die. Are people capable of dying from embarrassment? Well, we’ll see, because I’m going to try.

“What wrong with you?” Karl pokes me. I can hardly feel his touch so he shoves me harder. That does the trick and gets me out of my spiraling thoughts. 

Stop it, I order myself as I take a calming breath. Everything is going to be fine. This just needs a tiny bit of damage control. In order to do that I need to move. Now. 

I ignore Karl’s protests as I sprint to Markus and Anders and rip The List away from Markus.

”Hey!” Markus complains instantly. 

”Hi,” I smile as innocently as I can as I crumple up the paper in my hand. ”Hi,” I turn towards Anders who is looking at me curiously.

”Well, hello,” he greets me. ”Still spying on me?”

”I’m not,” I say, too quickly. He raises his brows at me. Markus is looking at us, totally gloating. He probably thinks that we are flirting. I push him away, tell him to find Karl and he – thank god – listens for once. Probably because he thinks he’s being a third wheel in our conversation. Which he wasn’t but I’m glad he’s gone so I can fix this mess.

”Sorry,” I say once I’ve made sure Markus has gone away and returned to Karl. Or hopefully to Karl as I can’t spot either of them from the crowd. ”I – he – this –” I stutter waving The List in my hand. 

”Hey, no, I get it, I’m hot,” Anders shrugs, then laughs. ”Seriously I can’t complain. That is nothing compared to what my team sometimes comes up with.” That is a rather scary idea. I’m glad I’m not Norwegian. 

Of course I have to blurt that out to him. I wince as I hear the words leave my mouth. 

Smooth. 

Anders doesn’t seem to mind though. He laughs at my words, starts telling some weird story about Tande and his sacred slippers. Apparently they have had a slipper related incident once or twice in the team. Or five times a week. The List starts to look quite tolerable considering all the things I’d have to go through if I were in the Norwegian team.

“I think it’s kind of cute that he cares so much that he tries to hook you up,” Anders ends up saying. I don’t think that is the reason why Markus tries to help me, but I don’t correct him. What he thinks is more considerate than the truth which is probably that Markus is just bored and tries to find something fun to pass his time with. “I’m honored to be considered, and really I would love to swing that way. You’re great,” he says next, and I have to think for a moment before I realize what he’s saying. He smiles at me.

Oh. 

_Oh._ Well, that is flattering. Also, how can he be so confident that he can just say things like that like it’s nothing? I need to ask him later. I want that kind of confidence. 

“But I think I can help you,” he continues. “Hey, Danny, come here,” he calls for Tande who is loitering a few meters away from us. Anders turns back to me after he has made sure Tande is complying. “I mean he is neither older nor shorter, and he’s mostly weird and quite frankly annoying, but when you really get to know him, he can be pretty cool.” 

He’s talking so quickly I have a hard time keeping up. What is he even saying, I don’t have time to ask, because suddenly Tande is standing right next to us. That was quick. My team is never that quick obeying the commands of others. 

“Have you met officially?” Anders asks.

Yeah, no. There was this one time, Tande was speaking with Andi during some competition, and I kind of hung around because I needed to wait for Andi, but I didn’t say anything to Tande that time. I think Andi tried to make me speak, but it had been a bad day in the hill, and I had absolutely no energy left to try to think about something to say to strangers. 

“Yeah, we have, kind of, I think,” Tande answers, smiling at me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I squeak. 

Great. This is why I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, mostly I don’t have a boyfriend, because I’m too hung up on the fantasy of Andi, but a little bit is because of this too: I’m terrible at flirting. And getting to know people. My brain turns to puddle and I forget the words. 

It’s not that I don’t try, I do! I haven’t spent two years in celibacy. Far from it. I pull guys. Or well. I let them pull me. It works, mostly, when I get past the awkward first encounter. When I’ve had a beer or two, it’s easier. Never easy, but easier, and if I meet the right guy, I don’t even have to speak that much myself. I can just smile and nod along.

I do try! I don’t want to be alone, I want to find someone. No one I’ve met has been interesting enough, though. Because there’s someone I constantly keep comparing them to. 

It would be easier if I could just make the voice on the back of my head shut up. Not Andi, not Andi, not Andi, it whispers when I try to fall in love with someone else. Not Andi, not Andi, not Andi, it keeps telling me, when I try to get myself to stay after I’ve spend a night with some guy.

“Stephan here wants a boyfriend. Or just someone to fool around with?” Anders turns to ask me.

“I’m good at both,” Tande says instantly. “Tell him.”

“Tell him yourself.”

“I am loyal and funny and pretty good in bed, and I’m a Ski Flying World Champion,” Tande lists dutifully. “I can show you my medal, if you want,” he adds.

“Is that how you pick up boys? I can show you my medal?” Anders exclaims. “Has that ever worked?”

“Johann wanted to see it,” Tande mumbles.

“Of course he did,” Anders grunts.

“I have one of those too, so I already know what it looks like,” I point out. Well, it’s not an individual medal and definitely not a golden one, but I’m quite proud of the silver medal I got a couple of years ago from Kulm. And I’ve seen a golden one as well. Severin has one, and I once got a peek of it when I was visiting him.

I can’t remember what I did there. The only thing I remember is Andi driving us over in the summer. We were late because we had to stop at one point because of a thunder storm. It was raining so hard Andi couldn’t see the road, and I made him stop before he killed both of us. Richi was mad at us for being late. Andi though it was hilarious. He kept telling everyone how romantic it was to sit in the car when it was pouring outside. His choice of words still make my stomach swoop. 

Romantic.

I can kind of see his point, there was certain beauty in it: sitting in the car in the middle of nowhere while the world outside poured its heart out. In another reality it could have been romantic, sitting there with him. In this reality it wasn’t.

“Well, if you wait a week or so, I will also have an Olympic gold, so I can show you that too,” Tande continues, and oh, they are still here.

“Don’t be stupid, his teammate literally won one two days ago. I think we can safely assume he has seen one of those too already,” Anders huffs.

“Well, excuse you, I wouldn’t only show him the medal,” Tande retorts back. They switch to Norwegian to fight more efficiently, and my mind goes straight back to the memories of the golden medal I got to see yesterday. 

I wish Richi wouldn’t have interrupted us. There was something in that moment, something in the look on Andi’s face that almost made me believe my dreams could become true just as well as his did. Those moments are hard to find when you tour the world with the team. There isn’t much privacy, there aren't many times, when we can just be us and not care about anything else. The team is always around, it’s a constant reminder that there is a job to do here, that there are roles we are supposed to play: teammates, colleagues, competitors. 

I wish it would be easier, I wish we would have the time to sit down and talk without it affecting anything else. I wish my job and private life would be easier to separate. I wish it would be simple. I love him, he loves me, and we will live happily ever after like in fairytales. Reality is not a fairytale though, not even close, not for me at least. 

I wish I could fall in love with someone who wasn't in the same team with me. I wish I could fall in love with someone who returned my love.

“It’s not working, is it? He’s not the right guy?” Anders turns back to me. Tande blinks at me, expecting an answer, and what can I say without hurting his feelings?

“Don’t worry,” Tande says when the silence grows too long. “Give me your phone,” he demands next, and I’m too surprised to question him. I hand him my phone.

“I’m giving you my number. If you ever find yourself in need of a good time, call me. No strings attached.” He gives me my phone back. He has saved his number under “hot Norwegian guy up for sex”.

“Uh, thanks.”

“No problem, you’re hot,” Tande says it so matter-of-factly, it makes me blush. I can’t quite meet his gaze, instead I try to hide my smile into my scarves and look the other way. That’s when I see him.

Andi is staring at me across the crowd with an astonished look on his face. He blinks when he sees me watching and quickly turns back to his conversation with Kraft and Hayböck. He shifts on his feet, and if I didn’t know him I wouldn’t think anything of it. But I do know him, and I do know what he looks like when he’s not comfortable, and that is definitely him not being comfortable. He keeps glancing my way and quickly averts his gaze when he sees me still looking. 

The crowd moves, and I lose sight of him again. 

“Please don’t tell Johann he gave you his number,” Anders continues the conversation, and I have to turn back to them.

“Please do tell Johann I gave you my number,” Tande corrects, smiling. “He’s cute when he gets jealous.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he gets jealous although you keep insisting there’s nothing going on between you two?”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Tande says. “And it’s not weird. It’s just how he is.”

“Don’t _you_ think it’s weird?” Anders turns to ask me. 

“Um.” That seems to be my go-to answer these days.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he gets jealous although they are supposedly only friends?” Anders repeats. “I’m telling you he has feelings for you,” he turns to say to Tande. “And you’re only teasing him with that act of yours.”

“And I’m telling you, stay out of it,” Tande snaps. 

“It’s the Olympics and you’re only distracting him,” Anders complains.

“Stop it,” Tande snarls. “I know him better than you do. And I know what I’m doing.” He sounds serious. It makes Anders shut up and me want to melt through the ground to escape this weird conversation I got in the middle of.

“Whatever,” Anders ends up saying. 

They bid their goodbyes as the second round is about to start as Anders needs to go make sure the others are behaving themselves. Tande leaves with him, and I realize then, that Karl and Markus have abandoned me and I still can’t feel my toes. Actually my fingers are starting to freeze too, that can’t be a good sign. 

I wander around the area trying to find Karl and Markus. I find them in the middle of an argument about tomatoes and know better not to ask. Apparently their conversation is interesting enough so Markus doesn’t even ask me how it went with Anders. Not right away anyway. He grows tired of the tomato conversation eventually and starts bugging me. I have nothing to say to him. He of course thinks I’m just too shy to tell him about my conversation with Anders so he starts making up a story all by himself. It gets a little too graphic for my taste, for Karl’s too apparently because he makes Markus shut up about it.

Richi finds us when the competition in finished. Andi is still nowhere to be seen, and I’ve started to complain about the state of my toes. Markus doesn’t find it so hilarious anymore, when he has been listening me complaining for the last fifteen minutes. He actually volunteers to find Andi just to get away from me, but Richi won’t let him go alone. In the end we all go.

We find Andi chatting with Kraft in the relatively quiet corner behind the mixed zone. The view to the hill is not great from their place, it makes me wonder if they even watched the competition. They are huddled close together, murmuring to each other with oddly serious expressions on their faces. Andi keeps fixing his beanie, shifting on his feet, he doesn’t seem to be comfortable at all. His shoulders are hunched, a smile completely gone from his face. He looks quite – lost? Distressed? I can’t quite grasp the feeling. It’s the same emotion that was on his face the morning after his win, and whatever that is, it’s not an emotion that should be on a face of a fresh Olympic Champion. 

Richi’s brows are furrowed as he looks at Andi, then turns to me.

”Could you go tell him we are leaving after the flower giving ceremony?” he asks me and forbids Markus to move when he tries to go instead. ”No, Stephan can handle that alone,” Richi tells Markus.

I kind of hoped Richi would let Markus go handle this, as the situation doesn’t look something I’d like to interfere. He is clearly having a serious conversation with Kraft, and I’m ashamed to admit that it makes ugly feelings churn in my stomach. They are the same feeling from last year, from those times when Andi and Kraft seemed to be inseparable. Andi is allowed to have other friends, of course he is, and I love that he has so many friends, that he doesn’t ever have to be alone if he doesn’t want to. I don’t mind, really, but I can’t help but be a bit bitter about the fact that Andi is clearly confessing something to Kraft, something he hasn’t shared with me or the team.

I wish he felt like he could talk to me about anything, I wish I was that person for him.

I inch closer, carefully watching Andi’s face. He forces a smile, when he sees me. 

Something’s very wrong.

”Hey,” I say, quietly as though afraid of scaring him. ”I can’t feel my toes,” I continue, just to see the genuine smile on his face. To lighten the mood, to make him feel better.

”I told you, you should’ve taken those extra socks,” he smiles, completely distracted. It’s not a genuine smile he’s giving me, not even close. ”If you get sick, you can sleep in the hallway. Oh, there’s Katharina, I need to say congrats.” And then he’s off again even though Katharina is nowhere to be seen. 

I turn to Kraft, unsure what to say. I don’t know if he knows what’s wrong with Andi, he must know though because he pats my arm, and his smile is almost apologetic.

”You just have to be patient with him,” he says, and what the hell is that supposed to mean?

~x~

Andi’s weird behavior continues during the next days. He’s mostly trying to be subtle about it. I don’t think the others even realize something is wrong. He hides it well. He jokes around and still doesn’t let Markus near his golden medal, that makes Markus absolutely furious. We talk, we have fun. He complains about the weather, and we have a mostly boring discussion about our schedules. We go to dinners together with the whole team, and he skips only a few of them in order to have dinner with Kraft. We eat breakfast together every morning, he always ends up drinking half of my tea despite insisting hating tea. One day he wants to try a suspicious looking sushi on lunch. I try to forbid him to eat it, but he doesn’t listen to me and is completely smug later when he doesn’t get a stomach ache that I promised he’d get if he did eat the sushi.

Everything seems to be normal. Except I know it’s not. He spends more and more time with Kraft and doesn’t really talk with any of us anymore. Not about the things that really matter. The conversations are always shallow. He talks all the time but doesn’t really say anything.

And he avoids touching me. When Andi avoids touching, something is seriously wrong. He loves touching, he still touches everyone else. He craves for it, I know that. One morning he ends up trying to cuddle with Markus which is a desperate choice. The hug ends up in a wrestling match between them as Richi stands next to them supervising that they don’t hurt each other. He kisses Richi on the cheek later and squeezes Karl into a bear hug, when Karl gets too anxious thinking about navigating through the Olympic Village all by himself. 

I hide myself in the bathroom to think about what the hell is wrong with me. What did I do, where did I go wrong? Why am I losing him, losing my best friend?

He talks to Kraft, I know he does, because every time he comes back from their dinner dates, he seems somehow more relaxed, relieved even. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it’s impossible not to when I lie awake at night. Those old insecurities come back to haunt me. Maybe I’m not good enough for him, not even as a friend. Maybe he wants to talk about things I wouldn’t understand. Like winning, the pressure you feel when you’re the best in the world. Kraft certainly know all about winning and the pressure that comes with it. 

Not good enough, never good enough.

My mind is spiraling, I’m losing it again, and now is the time I can’t lose it. We have started the training for the competition in the large hill, and I have to focus. I need to fight for that place in the team. I know I’m an underdog now, and it will be even harder to show Schuster I’m good enough to be on the team, when everyone else did so well in the last competition. 

They are doing great in the training too, but so am I. I don’t let the thoughts get to me, not much anyway. My training jumps are good, great even. They are not perfect, never perfect, but I’m satisfied with them. 

We have the last training on Thursday before the qualification on the next day. My jumps are good again, I’m happy. Schuster comes to meet us in the cabin after the training. I can see from his face, that it’s not good news. Not for me anyway.

“Karl stays in the team,” he says, and they all turn to look at me. 

I force a smile to my face. It’s for the team, I need to be strong for them.

“Okay,” I answer. So what if it hurts to see my dreams getting further and further away from me? So what if I’m not good enough to jump? I need to be strong for the others. It’s not about me. It’s not my time, never my time.

I’ve been dreaming of getting to compete in the Olympics for the past twenty years. That is all I’ve ever been dreaming of, that’s all anyone ever dreams of. As a little boy Olympics meant everything to me, and that is a dream that has grown with me my whole life. 

I got this far, I got to the Olympics. But it looks like that is the farthest I get to go. My place is to be the fifth man in the team, the one who doesn’t get to compete. Because I’m not good enough.

It’s a constant mantra in my head, it echoes in my mind after Schuster’s words. Not good enough, never good enough. I look at Andi who is packing his stuff in the corner, already completely focused on the qualification the next day and the competition on Saturday. He came here to compete, to win. That’s all he’s ever been doing, that’s what he always reminds everyone of. He puts ski jumping before anything else.

Have I been doing that? 

I thought I had. I’ve been focused, I’ve been professional. But have I really? 

I’ve been thinking about Andi all the time. Even now, after Schuster just told me I’m not in the team for the large hill competition, I’m thinking about Andi instead of thinking about my jumps, my performance, and the things I could’ve done better.

It has to stop, I realize. I have to stop distracting myself, dreaming about two things at the same time. I can’t focus on them both: on my dreams of the Olympics and Andi. I need to choose.

And I’m choosing to fight for my place in the team. Because that is the reality, a dream with a possibility of becoming true. While Andi – Andi is just a dream. Something that I can never reach.

I’m choosing to reach for the reality within my grasp. I’m choosing my dream of the Olympics.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, guys! I am so sorry it has taken me so long with the update. All you comments & kudos mean so much to me, I'll answer to them later, I really just want to have this chapter out NOW as it's been forever since the last one. Thank you for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy this on :)

We have a team meeting on Saturday morning. They go over the schedule of the competition later that day, while I sit there listening and being a supportive teammate. In the end Schuster wants to know who will take part in the training tomorrow. It will be the last training before the team competition. The last training for us in these Olympics. It’s ridiculous how fast the time has gone. 

The others agree that the competition today will be enough for them. I’m the only one signing up for the last training. Schuster nods and scribbles something down to his notebook. He informs us he will announce the team for the team competition after he’s seen my training jumps. 

“Nothing is decided yet,” he says. They all nod. I try to convince myself to believe it as well. There is a chance, I have a chance. I just need to focus on that and only that.

I head to the gym after the meeting. Markus tries to distract me with a story of his but I refuse to listen, tell him he needs to concentrate on the competition and I need to be alone. That shuts him up. I didn’t mean to be rude to him, but that is what it sounded and Markus seems to be taken aback by my tone. He steps aside and lets me go.

“What’s wrong with him?” I hear him mutter to Andi, who emerges from the meeting room with Schuster. I don’t hear Andi’s reply. I’m already gone.

It’s good to be alone for once, do my own thing without the others. When you are on tour with the team, it’s sometimes easy to forget how loud and hectic everything is. It’s difficult to realize how tiring it is and how much I miss the quietness. I usually realize it only when I get back home, when I can hear the silence again. 

It’s refreshing to be alone with my thoughts. I go to the gym, I eat dinner. I don’t see the team, I’m enjoying the atmosphere in the Olympic Village all by myself. And it’s great. I push Andi away from my mind. He doesn’t have a place there anymore, I decide. Not during these Olympics anyway. I’ll deal with everything when we get back home. Now it’s time to be a professional, it’s time to think about myself only.

The rest of the team is already preparing to leave when I come back from dinner. Andi spins around in the hallway looking like he’s lost something. I try to sneak past him but he stops me by grabbing my hand. That makes me look at him. He has avoided touching me for days now. He doesn’t say anything though, just stares at me. The silence grows longer as I wait for him to speak. 

“You know I was kind of going somewhere,” I end up saying when he still won’t talk. That seems to wake him from the haze. He shakes his head the tiniest bit. 

“You’ll come to watch the competition, right?” 

Truth is I thought about not going. I thought about watching the competition in the Athletes Village and going straight to bed after it. It sounded better than standing three hours next to the hill freezing my fingers off. In the end, I know I have to go to the hill. It’s the Olympics after all, and the competition is going to be brilliant. I have to see it live, even if I’m not allowed to compete there myself. 

“Of course,” I answer to Andi. He seems to relax, like he was fearing I wouldn’t come. 

“Okay, good,” he says and stops for a second. “I need you there,” he blurts out next, and he sounds so sincere, so shaky that I don’t dare to laugh at him, although his words make a hysterical laugh bubble in my chest. Oh, I know he means his words, but I wish he meant them the way I want him to mean them. “I need you,” he repeats, taking a deep breath. “I – it’s important for me – that you are there.” He stutters through the words and it’s weird. Andi doesn’t stutter. 

“Are you nervous?” I ask as it’s the only explanation I can come up with.

“What?” he squeaks. 

“You know you have nothing to be nervous about. You’re going to be brilliant,” I say. 

“Okay,” he says and smiles a bit. I smile back. It’s easy. It’s always easy to smile at him. Andi blinks.

“Andi, have you seen my – oh, Stephan, you’re back.” Markus barges into the hallway holding up a pair of socks. “Have either of you seen my beanie?” 

“It’s here,” Karl hollers from the other room. Markus sprints back to their room, Andi is gnawing his lip in front of me. 

“Can I have my hand back?” I ask and squeeze his. 

“Oh.” He lets go. “Sorry.” 

“Why are you being weird? What’s wrong?” I laugh as I say it but the question is sincere. There’s something wrong, and I wish he would tell me what it was. I would listen, if he told me. Even now, even when I really should not get involved with whatever it is that is bothering him. I would listen, right now, if he wanted me to. Right now, it would be my job to be a supportive teammate, a friend for him as he prepares for the competition. Later – later I’ll think of only myself.

“I um – “ He grabs my hand again and makes me frown. “Stephan, I – you –“ Andi usually never has this much trouble speaking. He’s great with words, rarely gets flustered. Yet there he stands, in front of me, stumbling over the words like he doesn’t know how to find the right ones. 

“What is it?” I encourage him, rubbing my thumb along his hand. It’s usually the other way around. He has to wait for me to find the words, me to get my thoughts straight. I am usually the one who is lost, not knowing how to make others understand what I’m trying to mumble. 

“Fuck,” he curses and tightens his grip on my hand. 

“Well, that is not a very nice way of asking Stephan to sleep with you.” Markus has come back. Holding the beanie in his hands, he smirks at us. “You are not even on The List,” he says. I groan, but Andi seems puzzled. He blinks at Markus, looking like he’s not quite sure why he’s there. 

“The List?” 

I frown at him. He knows what The List is. I’ve complained about it to him a hundred times before. He doesn’t seem to be on top of things at the moment. His mind is somewhere far away. 

“The List of attractive older men who are willing to date Stephan,” Markus reminds him. “You are none of those things so back off,” he jokes and makes shooing motions to him. 

“Oh,” Andi blushes. “Right,” he mutters before disappearing to our room.

~x~

It’s going great. I don’t know if I’m just gotten used to the coldness or if it’s not that cold today because it’s actually quite bearable to stand next to the hill. As bearable as watching others compete while you can’t can ever be.

Andi is third after the first round, five points from the top. Richi, Karl and Markus are all in the top fifteen. They are doing great, all comfortable with their jumps. It will be difficult to try to beat them, make room in the team for me. I push away the thought. Now is not the time to think that.

Andi’s last jump is amazing. He takes the lead with it, and I’m grinning into my scarf. His third medal is guaranteed. These are his Olympics.

There are only two jumpers left in the tower. Hayböck is the second to last to come down, and his jump is clearly not enough. It’s a good jump, but it doesn’t beat Andi’s. It’s not even good enough for podium, and I can see Kraft pushing people away to get to his boyfriend. It’s nice, I think, as Hayböck ends up in the fifth place. That they have each other at least.

Stoch is the last one, a clear winner. I let the disappointment hit me for two seconds before I push it away. Andi is a silver medalist, I can’t be disappointed about that.

It is madness in the mixed zone, and I learned my lesson in the normal hill competition. It’s useless trying to get close to Andi. So I wait, wait for him to come to me, because I know he will, he has to. I’m here because he wanted me here, I promised him I’d be here. 

I lose sight of him in the crowd, concentrate on getting myself warm, and when I pay enough attention again, I find Andi standing a few meters away with Kraft, hugging him as Kraft is quietly muttering something to his ear. Andi pulls back a bit, glances at me and then says something back at Kraft. Kraft smiles at him, pats his arm and nudges him gently to my direction. My confusion is quickly forgotten when I get him in front of me. His smile is blinding. I pull him into a hug. He’s laughing into my ear, listing all the things he still needs to do before he can leave. The flower ceremony, change of clothes, apparently he has lost his helmet and needs to find it.

“Wait for me, okay?” he makes me promise when someone comes to usher him to the flower ceremony.

“Okay,” I say. I can give him that, give him those moments after the flower ceremony. The traffic is busy now anyway, it’s better to wait a little before leaving.

I’m lucky, I realize when the door of the container closes behind us. Everyone wants a piece of the new medalist, and I get to have Andi all for myself for a few minutes. I don’t know where the rest of our team is, I don’t care. All I know is that we are alone in our container and Andi has lost his shirt. He’s digging his backpack, shirtless, and I try not to look at the muscles on his stomach too closely as I hand him the shirt he has lost.

“What would I do without you?” he smiles as he pulls the shirt over his head.

“Catch a cold probably,” I mutter glancing at my phone. It’s past midnight already, and I know I should find myself a shuttle bus to take me back to the Village. I need to go to bed early. It’s workday tomorrow.

“Hi,” Andi smiles at me when he emerges from the shirt. His smile is blinding, and I forget the time, just for a second.

“Hi,” I smile back, I have to. He stands there in front of me as a fresh Olympic medalist, just like he did a couple of days ago. Yet this time it feels completely different. We aren’t the only people in the world, we aren’t alone in our bubble. There is a world around us, a world buzzing outside the container, I can hear it. This isn’t a dream of him and me, this is a reality where I have my last chance of fighting my place in the competing team tomorrow. 

It’s not just the two of us, it never is. There’s a reality around us, something grounding me to the moment. I don’t let my thoughts wander, not this time. I can’t afford it.

He takes a step closer, I take a step back to give him more space. He doesn’t want space, it seems, as he takes another step closer, then another. I keep trying to step aside, but he follows me until I can feel the wall behind my back. Andi smiles in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Being happy,” he answers immediately and leans against me. He hides his smile to my neck, wraps his arms around me, and complains quietly when my hug is too cold for his bare arms. I huff at him to put more clothes on but he refuses to move. Instead he zips open my coat so he can snuggle better against me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It is, he has never had problems being close to people, but it feels weird after he’s been avoiding me in the last couple of days. I wrap my hands around him, anyway. I can give him this without losing myself again, I know I can.

That’s how Richi finds us when he comes in a few moments later.

“What are you doing?” he sounds suspicious. Andi glances at him over his shoulder.

“Being happy,” he repeats the answer he gave me a few minutes ago. He turns back to me, pokes his tongue out and licks my nose.

“Gross,” Richi informs us while I let out a strangled laugh. Andi’s still smiling like there isn’t a care in the world. “There’s a car coming in fifteen minutes, they said. Stephan, you still have the keys, right?” Richi continues. He clearly wants to escape from the container as soon as possible.

“Yeah, I do,” I say while trying to wrestle Andi’s hands away from my chest. He keeps poking me, and it’s distracting.

“What do you need the keys for?” Andi frowns, his right hand frozen to my waist. “We’re going to the German House to celebrate, aren’t we?”

“I’m going to wait outside with others,” Richi mumbles before disappearing and leaving us alone. Andi pays him no mind, he’s still frowning at me.

“I’m not coming to the German House,” I say to Andi. He keeps frowning.

“Oh,” he says and turns away. I don’t let him go. I grab his arm and turn him back to me.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“I can see something is wrong, Andreas.”

“No, just – “ He shakes his head. “You promised you’d be there for me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“No, but I need you to come with me. I need you.”

“You don’t need me for partying.”

“I need you,” he repeats.

“I can’t come.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” I stare at him. The feeling in the room has changed from happiness to something else. He can’t seriously ask that question. I know he’s happy about his medal, wants to celebrate with the team. But he can’t seriously think I’d come to party with then. I need to concentrate on tomorrow, he knows that. The training tomorrow is the only chance I have to make my dreams come true. I can’t let anything distract me. 

I shake my head. 

“You can party with the others,” I say instead of explaining what he should already know.

“No, I want you,” he says. And then – then he kisses me. 

It’s a press of his lips against mine, it’s butterflies suddenly in my stomach. It’s his hand grabbing my arm, his other hand on my waist, pulling me closer. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of – 

Except it isn’t.

It isn’t everything I’ve dreamed of, not even close, and this can’t be happening right now. Because I have work to do tomorrow. If I don’t jump tomorrow, if I don’t succeed, I’ll never jump in these Olympics again. I’m merely a fifth man and everyone will forget I even was here.

It’s a slim chance but it’s a chance, my only chance of getting to be part of the team in the team competition.

It’s my chance of success, my chance of doing what I came here to do. And it’s real.

The funny thing is, I’ve always thought a personal life would come before profession. Any other day this would have felt like all of my dreams coming true at once. 

Today is different.

For all I know it might be just one kiss for him, a test to see what it would be like, and I would love to be his test piece. That would be a great way to tell him of the stupid dreams I’ve been having for the last two years. I’d finally get it all out there, off my chest. On a normal day, I’d do it. We’d have that conversation I should’ve had with him two years ago. We’d talk and laugh and get over it. Maybe Andi would tell me, why he’s been so weird lately. We’d get it all in the open, and then move past it. On a normal day, that’s what would happen. That is what I would do.

But – 

Ever since I was a young boy, I’ve been dreaming of the Olympics, of getting a chance to jump here. And I know Andi will still be here tomorrow, and I know there will be Olympics again in four years. I’m here tomorrow, I don’t know if I’ll be here in four years.

The decision is easy, in the end. 

“No, Andi, stop.” I push him away.

Two years of dreaming of this moment, and I push him away. I push away my fantasy coming true.

Because there’s a real chance – however slim – that I get to jump in the Olympic team the day after tomorrow. And that is something I’ve been dreaming for the last twenty years. 

“No, but –“ he stutters. I can’t quite bare to look at him. “I see the way you look at me,” he says, pleading, and there’s a rush in my ears, because it’s happening and it can’t happen, not now. We need to have this conversation, we need to talk, I need to tell him how I feel and what I’ve been dreaming of. But now is not the time for that, and how can he not see that?

“Not now, please,” I beg him, but he doesn’t hear the desperation in my voice. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear, doesn’t want to listen. Maybe it’s all the success that makes his brain a bit too fuzzy. Whatever it is, he isn’t listening to me.

“You want me,” he states.

“No. I mean yes – I – stop that!” I step away from him. “You don’t get it, do you?”

He’s my best friend, he knows me! He should know when it’s time for this conversation and when it’s not. He has chosen the most inconvenient time. How can he think that now is a good time for this?

“I – I don’t – I couldn’t – I wanted to say something before the competition,” Andi stutters. “But everyone kept interrupting. It’s better now. No interruptions. We have all night, right? I – say something, please, Stephan.”

“I have training tomorrow,” I say.

“I – what?”

“I said I have training tomorrow,” I repeat, ice in my voice. 

“You are angry,” Andi realizes and finally – finally! – takes a step back. It’s easier to find reasons not to ignore everything else and just push him against the wall and kiss him senseless when he isn't so close to me. 

“Of course I’m angry, you never think things through! This is literally the worst possible timing.”  
We don’t often fight. When we do it’s usually because Andi rarely stops to think about things before he does them. He always acts first and thinks afterwards while I do the exact opposite. 

“I did think this time,” Andi mutters petulantly. “You have no idea how much I thought of this.”

“And you thought this would be the right time?” My voice is accusing. I can’t help it although I know I’m not completely fair to him. It’s not his fault he doesn’t think everything through three zillion times before he acts. It’s not his fault I haven’t told him how much it would really mean to me to have that chance of being part of the team in the competition on Monday. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know that I need to do this on my own and that this – him – could shatter my concentration so easily.

“I – we have all night – “ Andi stutters and blinks furiously. 

“You have all night,” I correct. “I have a workday tomorrow.”

That said I wrestle myself away from him and leave.

~x~

I don’t see the others in the morning. They came back pretty late, I was already fast asleep. When I wake up, Andi is nowhere to be seen, but his shoes are in the hallway when I’m getting ready for breakfast so I don’t get too concerned.

They are still sleeping when I get back from breakfast, and I’m grateful for it. It’s easier to concentrate on yourself when the others are not around. Today is for me, I need to think only myself. Tomorrow – if I get in the team – I can think about them, but today I’m alone, I need to be alone. 

I spend the morning in the gym. It’s a light workout, more to wake up my body than anything else. I have music on my ears and my mind is quiet, focused. I don’t let my mind wander, I won’t let my thoughts get too far, especially not to last night. I can’t, not today.

Andi has a media day so I only see him once when I’m ready to leave to the hill. He’s coming to our room as I’m going out, and he stops me on the doorway. 

“Look, Stephan,” he begins, but stops when I turn to look at him. He sees it, of course he does, and it shocks him, because this is the first since we got to know each other that I’m not his friend. I am a teammate, colleague, that is all there is between us. 

“Good luck,” he mutters quietly as he steps aside. I don’t answer, I can’t. It’s difficult enough. He doesn’t know how easily he could shatter everything I’ve built around me. I squeeze past him. I need to go, get far away from him, to the hill where the only thing that matters are my jumps.

I haven’t given up, but I know that the chance of me getting to the team are slim. Schuster hasn’t said anything, hasn’t confirmed anything, he has barely spoken to me at all in the hill. I refuse to let that bother me. I sit on the pole before my last training jump. The other two have been good, great even. I let myself take a few seconds before the last jump. It just might be that – my last jump in these Olympics. Maybe my last ever jump in Olympics. Who knows where I’ll be in four years? 

The thought should be depressing, I think, but I can’t help but smile as I take in the sight in front of me. This is my dream, my childhood dream, and I know the chances of ever getting this far were slim. Yet, here I am: living my dream. 

Well. Almost. 

There is no giant epiphany, a realization of what I’ve already succeeded. I’m seconds away from my jump, there’s no time to think about anything revolutionary. Just fleeting thoughts, quietly simmering feelings, a sense of something beneath my skin. 

It isn’t about winning and fighting and trying to cross that line to be good enough. There are no lines, there is nothing to cross. It’s just us floating in an endless sea, and I’ve been trying to draw lines where lines cannot be drawn. The reality and the dream are not two different sides. They exist in the same space, because neither can be without the other. There is not reality without a dream, there is not a dream without the reality. 

And I’m already a winner. I got this far. 

It’s half a though, a smile on my face before I let go of the pole. 

I got this far. 

It’s an odd sensation. After weeks of being keyed up, of being stressed about if I made it to the team or not, of thinking about Andi and second-guessing every though I had, it’s calm in my head. And it feels good as I sit alone smiling to myself.

Or course that is when Schuster barges in and takes away the calmness with his words. 

“Good job. You’re in the team,” he says, and then he’s off again, and I’m alone in the container with a shoe in my hand wondering if I understood him correctly. 

The laugh that bubbles out of me is slightly hysterical.

~x~

It’s a quiet ride back to the Athletes Village. Mainly because Schuster had to go straight to the team captains meeting and I sit alone in the back of the van. I feel like crying. I feel like laughing. I feel too many emotions bubbling inside my skin. It feels surreal. I’m not used to having my dreams come true, and it’s quite overwhelming when they do.

I unlock our apartment door, smiling to myself as I push the door open. 

It feels like he has been waiting for me. 

Andi spins around as he hears the door open. 

“Look, Stephan – “ he begins before I can even close the door behind me, and yes, we need to have the “look, Stephan” conversation, but there’s something else to be said first. I have to tell him. He’s my best friend and he needs to be the first one to know that I’ve made my dreams come true.

“I jump,” I interrupt him.

“ – about what happened, I know you didn’t want to talk before – what?” He stops when he hears my words.

“I jump,” I repeat.

“You jump.” He blinks.

“I jump.” The grin on my face seems to be contagious because he starts smiling as soon as the words reach his mind.

“You – oh my god – you – come here.” He doesn’t wait for me to move, doesn’t wait for me to put boundaries between us. He leaps to me and squeezes me to a hug, and it’s so easy. It’s so easy to melt into him, bury my face into his neck and laugh with him.

I should’ve never been scared, I realize. Because this is Andi, and I can tell him everything. The boundaries I’ve made between us are useless. They do nothing but shield me to my own loneliness, to my haunting thoughts when really I should’ve just talked with him, let him help anyway he could. Andi always finds a way.

I lean back, ready to tell him that, when Markus comes into the hallway where we are standing.

”It’s you, isn’t it? You’re in the team,” he says, and, yeah, maybe this isn’t the best time to tell Andi everything after all. We still have one competition to go, we still have a job to do. I glance at Markus.

“Yeah,” I admit, shifting on my feet. I feel bad, although I know I shouldn’t. I didn’t take his place, it was mine, it is mine. But I know what it feels like to be left out, and it’s not a nice feeling. 

Markus seems to have a different kind of opinion. He whoops.

“Free night,” he shouts excitedly and laughs when he sees my stunned expression. “Unlike you, I have done my bit in these Olympics. I’m ready to lay back and have some fun.”

Richi wouldn’t be pleased hearing that. I’m glad he’s hiding somewhere and not here listening to Markus.

“Give me your phone,” he demands next. I hand him my phone without thinking. Only when he has is in his hands, I realize that giving him my phone might have been a very bad idea.

“Why do you need it?” I ask, suspicious, and try to grab it back, but he refuses to give it to me.

“You have Fannemel’s number, right? I’m going to ask him for a beer. He seems nice enough,” he mutters as he goes through my contacts. I’m not sure if I have Anders’ number. I probably don’t, why would I? Markus seems to think we are more close than we actually are.

“Hmm, where is it?” Markus mutters, then looks at me before I have time to answer him. He shows me the screen. “Now who is this?”

Andi leans closer to have a look.

“Hot Norwegian guy up for sex,” Andi reads from my phone. I blush when he turns to look at me. His smile flaters.

“Ah, that’s – um –“ I realize my stutter doesn’t exactly help them reach the conclusion I want them to reach, but my mind is completely blank. It’s nothing, really, part of a Norwegian chaos I accidentally stumbled into. 

“Friend with benefits?” Markus suggests wiggling his brows.

“Uh, no.”

“Desperate guy from a bar that wanted you to have his number?”

“No.”

“Your secret boyfriend?”

“No!”

“Olympic crush?”

“No.”

“Someone we know?”

I close my mouth.

“It is!” Markus gets excited. “Who is it?”

“I – uh – it’s just – I mean – Tande wanted me to have his number,” I mutter.

“Tande!” Markus exclaims, surprised. 

“Tande?” Andi mutters quietly and takes a few steps back. I look at him, and I see it all. He has never been particularly good at hiding his feelings. He remembers me talking with Anders and Tande, he remembers the look we shared during the ladies competition, and his thoughts are moving at high speed. “I – you? I would’ve never – “ He doesn’t end the sentence. 

What? He would have never done what? Kissed me yesterday? I want to ask, but Markus is standing right there, and I know I can’t ask him anything when Markus is present. I also can’t shoo Markus away. That would make him suspicious and whiny. 

“Andi – “ I begin. We need to talk, I need to talk. I need to ask him what he’s thinking. Why he cares so much that I have Tande’s number on my phone? 

“I knew it!” Markus interrupts me. “I knew you’d be into Norwegians! Is it serious? How long has it been going on? Is he good in bed? Wait, I don’t want to know. Wait, yes I do! Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I tell him earnestly. Markus whines and tells me I’m boring. He just wants to know a couple of details. How did this conversation turn this way? They have gotten completely wrong impression of this. 

I open my mouth, ready to tell them the truth: that Anders though Tande would suit me and Tande really just wanted me to have his number and he’s probably in love with Forfang anyway, and I have really no desire to get involved with the Norwegian chaos. Just a couple of sentences to clear this all up, but Markus keeps babbling about my sex life which is distracting, and then Andi is already turning away.

“I have to go,” he mutters.

“Andi, no, wait!” I have time to say. He turns to look from the doorway. There’s something in his eyes I can’t quite interpret. 

“We have a workday tomorrow,” he says before disappearing to our room. Markus lifts his brows at me when Andi’s words make me blush.

Fair enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, look who didn't take nearly two months to update this time! I'm super excited about this chapter because there's a certain scene in this one that started it all. Back in August when I wrote the first words to this story, it was one of the first things I wrote. I don't know how that 300 word drabble turned into this multi-chaptered mess that this currently is, but I've had so much fun with this story so I only complain a tiniest bit ;D 
> 
> There's this one image I'm sure most of you are familiar with when you think the equation Stephan+Andi+Olympics+German House, and I know I can never do it justice by my words, but I tried and I hope you like it. Again, I am overwhelmed about the feedback this story has gotten, you guys rock, thank you <3

That night I dream about Lahti. I sit in the tower waiting for Schuster to wave his flag. I don’t know the exact point difference but I know Markus’ jump was amazing and we have a comfortable lead before Austria and Norway. We are twenty something points ahead of Austria, even more ahead of Norway. It isn’t much in a team competition but at the moment it’s enough to keep a hold on that silver medal. The Poles have been amazing, the gold is as good as theirs already but the fight for the other medals is still going strong. 

And we are still in that fight, we are still strong.

I just have to do my part, I just have to succeed this once. My jump in the first round was the weakest of the team but it wasn’t too bad. It was good enough to still keep us in the competition. I just have to have another one of those: good enough to keep us fighting.

God, how I hate this hill here. 

I can’t quite get a grasp of it. The inrun feels weird. No, not weird. Awful. I hate it. There is not many hills that I truly hate, but this is one of them. I hate the hill in Salpausselkä.

What a great feeling to have before your final jump in the World Championships.

Schuster waves the flag, it’s time to fly.

I know it’s going wrong as soon as I’m in the air. I have no idea what I did on the inrun, I couldn’t feel the curve at all and I’m struggling to get in the right position. It’s bad. Not bad. It’s a catastrophe.

It’s 103,5 meters worth of struggling and fighting and failing.

I can see Markus’ face on the other side of the gate. He’s not smiling. There’s no point of smiling. I just waved goodbye to our medal. 

I wake up, those 103,5 meters in my head, and it’s wrong, everything is wrong.

I’m not good enough, I can never be, and I’m going to fail them again. There are ugly thoughts spiraling in my head, a bundle of nerves in my stomach, and I don’t know how to _be_. I need to make the thoughts go away, I need to concentrate. I can’t let this bring me down, I can’t let a dream, a memory to ruin everything. 

I can’t be the one to fail them again.

Andi is still sleeping when I pad quietly to the bathroom and stare at the toilet for a good ten minutes. I kind of wish I could just puke out the feelings. I try spitting a few times but it doesn’t help. My stomach is empty apart from the nerves and the nerves have decided to stay in my stomach and not come out.

I end up sitting in the middle of my bed trying to mimic a lotus position. I don’t even do yoga really, but now I have a hysterical urge to start humming, find some way to calm my nerves and make the terrible thoughts go away. I need to do something to feel right again, I can’t feel like this, not today. 

I try to hum quietly so that Andi doesn’t wake up. That’s the last thing I want.

“What are you doing?” 

I don’t realize I’ve closed my eyes before Andi speaks. I blink my eyes open and stop the useless humming. Andi is sitting on his own bed looking at me. At these moments I am so grateful that I share a room with him. Because no matter what is currently happening between us, I know that at the end of the day he will still be my friend. And not just any friend, he’s my best friend, and breaking in front of him isn’t as scary as it would be if he was anyone else. I can be weak in front of him and I know he won’t judge me. I can be myself, I can break down. I couldn’t do that if he was Richi or Karl or Markus. They wouldn’t understand. To them I’m a friend because we are teammates. To Andi I’m a friend because I am me.

I open my mouth. No words come out. I try again. 

“I had a nightmare,” I whisper. Not a nightmare really, just a memory that haunts me. I really thought I had grown past it. I know I’m good enough, I got this far, and I’m proud of myself. I am! It’s just that sometimes my brain doesn’t agree with the logic. 

The thoughts are too much, they are crushing me. I feel raw, like I’m standing on the edge of something fighting to stay standing when all my feelings are screaming for me to fall. It’s like drowning on dry land, having too much air to breathe but not knowing how to make your lungs work. It’s that familiar anxiety, and I absolutely hate myself for being too weak.

“Okay,” Andi says and stands up. I shut my eyes again, thinking he’s about to leave the room. I blink my eyes open when I can feel the mattress dip under Andi’s weight. He sits across from me, mimicking my lotus position. He takes my hands, squeezes and smiles at me. His eyes are tired and his hair is sticking to every possible direction. He sits in front of me wearing bright red boxers and a t-shirt that is too small for him. It’s probably my shirt, I notice.

Andi yawns to my face, then exhales as if gathering the energy.

“You don’t have to – “ I start before he can begin.

“I know. I want to,” he interrupts me. 

“Just because it’s a team competition – “

“That’s not why I’m doing this,” he interrupts again and squeezes my hands. No, of course not. He’s doing this, helping me, because he doesn’t even stop to think there might be other options. For him this – helping – is the only choice. He always finds a way to be there for me, whatever the situation. 

“You need to stop doing this, you know,” he begins. “I hate seeing you like this. It’s fucking scary. Not only because I never know what to say to make you feel better, but also because it makes me feel so helpless. Like if I don’t find a way to be strong for you, I might lose myself, because you are my rock and if you fall I don’t have a chance.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. Oh god, this is awful. I’m going to ruin everything.

“Shut up, I get it. I get those feelings you have. I get the nightmares,” he says. “Just – sometimes it’s you who has the worst timing.” He smiles at me, but I can’t find a way to smile at the irony of the situation. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” I say instead of smiling. I blame him of having the worst timing, but so what if he kisses me at a wrong time. That doesn’t cost us any medals. This does, I do. 

“Stop apologizing,” he huffs. “It’s just that you can’t do this right now, you know that.”

“I know.”

He squeezes my hands again.

“Tell me what’s the worst possible outcome.”

“I could fuck it up.”

“And then what?”

“I – “ I start but stop immediately. And then what? They won’t hate me for failing. They won’t blame me. It’s an individual sport but today is all about the team effort. I will hate myself if I fail, I will blame myself, and I will get over it, because that’s what an athlete has to do.

“See? No one will remember the competition in two years and go: oh yeah, that’s when Leyhe blew it and we didn’t get a medal. No one except you, because you’re an idiot who will dwell on things. Besides, no point preparing to lose before the competition has even started. Nothing is lost yet. The competition is over when the last man has landed. For all we know, we all fail and bloody Finland will win! So can you please stop trying to lose before you’ve even tried?”

I lower my head, let out a tiniest laugh. He’s right, I’m being stupid. It should concern me how easily he can turn my anxiety around, but I can’t be anything else but grateful. It’s so easy to listen to him, hear his words as the truth. 

“If we lose, we lose, but whatever happens we can get drunk tonight and forget it. It’s the last competition. You can go have sex with your hot Norwegian boyfriend. They’ll probably win the gold anyway so you get to bang an Olympic winner, that should be good,” Andi continues. I can see he is just trying to change the subject, get my mind off of the nightmare, and he probably truly thinks Tande is the best way to get my mind elsewhere. It’s working, though not for the reasons Andi might think.

“I’m not having sex with Tande.”

“Well whatever. Find a quiet place to cuddle or something then.”

“I’m not dating him,” I point out. “I don’t think I ever could date a competitor.”

“Right.” He sounds weird.

“I mean, we wouldn’t really be together on the competition trips, when we are working. And after that… I wouldn’t want to fly to Norway. I just want to go home.” I stare at him. He knows how much I love being at home, he knows how much I miss it when we’re on the road. “I want to go home and I want to fall asleep next to my boyfriend and watch stupid movies on the couch with him. I want to be boring at home. In Germany.” 

I love travelling, I love getting to see the world – at least the ski jumping related parts in it. But I also love home, I love Germany, and I do miss it when we’re away.

“Krafti and Michael seem to make it work pretty well,” Andi mutters.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“They’re both from the same country, they’re teammates. That makes it easier.”

“So you could date a teammate then?” he asks.

“I mean…” Is he being serious? Or is this just some twisted kind of joke for him? I shrug. Be it joke or not, I’m going to go with truth. “Maybe. But Norwegians… definitely not. Besides, Tande is hot but he’s not really my type.”

“Ah, yeah, older and shorter or whatever it was that was your type,” Andi mutters.

“I lied.” Since we are on this topic already, I might as well take a chance here. This is definitely not a right time for this, but I’ve waited long enough. Andi is right, I do tend to dwell on things when I really shouldn’t. 

“Huh?”

“I lied when Markus asked what my type was.”

“Why?”

My laugh is slightly hysterical. Two years of staring at the line I drew between us and here I am, ready to cross that line. Fucking finally.

“Because I couldn’t describe you as my ideal boyfriend in front of the whole team, now could I?” There it is. Finally, the truth I should’ve told him years ago. Why was it so easy to confess that now? 

Andi stares at me. He’s still holding my hand, or maybe I’m holding his, too scared of letting go when the words are finally out there. Confessing is not as scary as I thought it could be. Then again I think it would’ve been a lot scarier if Andi hadn’t already kissed me two days ago.

“I knew it,” he blurts out. “I knew I wasn’t just imagining it. I knew – but I was so scared – Krafti said I should just talk to you about it but I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I – you – everyone knows you deserve the world and I didn’t think I could ever… Please – “ he sounds desperate, and I listen to his words, half finished sentences, not quite understanding what he is trying to say. “I need you to spell this out to me. On the other day, after the competition – it was just a bad timing, right?”

“Really bad,” I agree.

“And maybe if I – if I picked another time. Better time? You wouldn’t push me away?” 

To be honest? I don’t think I could do that anymore. Pushing him away once was difficult enough even though I knew I made the right decision at the time. 

“I wouldn’t,” I whisper. “I would, however, force you to talk about it this time.”

“During the kissing?”

“Maybe after.” I stare at him for a little while. This is really not a good time to talk about it, but since we already started, I need to make sure we are on the same page. “Or before. I – what do you want, Andi? You’ve never talked about this before. I thought you liked girls.” Sometimes I let myself dream that he was looking at me the way I was looking at him. Sometimes I let myself hope. Most of the time I was too afraid of the lines between us, too caught up in everything that separated up. 

Our hopes and dreams were completely different. That’s what I thought.

“It’s always been career first for you,” I remind him. “You wanted to win everything.”

“I said I wanted to be a four-time Olympic medalist before I settle down,” he corrects. “I just need one more medal to do that.” He smirks but I can’t quite smile back. His smile falters, then vanishes completely.

“What do you want, Andi?” I repeat.

“I don’t know.”

“I see.” There’s disappointment in my voice, and he surely hears that.

“I know I want to continue jumping,” he rushes to say. “I know I want to win. I know ski jumping is the most important thing in my life.” He smiles, I don’t. This doesn’t sound as good as I hoped it would. “I know it doesn’t feel right if you’re not there. If I can’t share it with you. I know I need to have you there. I know I want you there.”

I’m not quite sure I’m following. I’ll be there for him no matter what, that has nothing to do with dating. 

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Look, whatever it is that you want, I don’t think I could do a casual thing. I thought I could. I’d love to give that to you if that’s what you want.” 

Ah, smooth. I stop and squeeze his hands. “But it wouldn’t be fair to me,” I continue, and it’s true. I love sex but that’s not what I want from Andi. I want more, I need more, and he needs to know that. “Or to you. Because I want more.”

“I – okay,” Andi says and blinks a few times. He seems surprised, taken aback by my words. Then all of the sudden, he smiles: wide and beautiful, and my breath catches.

“See, this is what you should always do,” he says. “Think about yourself first, only yourself. Not what the others might think or of all the people you might or might not fail.” He smiles wider and leans closer.

“What do you want, Andi?” I repeat again.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers and leans closer. “And I want to know why do you have Tande’s number on your phone?”

I laugh.

“He wants to make someone jealous, I don’t know. He’s a Norwegian, they’re all weird.”

“Okay.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Yeah,” he grins and leans even closer. I lower my gaze and smile to my lap.

“As for the other thing you wanted,” I find him grinning at me and I have to look away again. I’m so bad at flirting. It’s awkward and weird and frankly, everything I say sounds awful. Andi doesn’t seem to mind, though. “I believe we still have a job to do today and we shouldn’t get distracted before that,” I mumble, smiling to my lap.

Andi sits in front of me, stunned.

“I can’t decide if you’re world’s biggest tease or if you just have to the best self-control ever,” he says finally. It’s more fear that I won’t be able to let him go again if I kiss him now than self-control, but I don’t correct him. I wouldn’t have time for that even if I wanted to, because there’s a knock on our door.

“Guys, you up yet?” Richi asks from the other side. 

“Oh, we are up, alright,” Andi calls out before I have time to react.

“Team meeting in ten, alright?” 

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

Andi squeezes my hands once before getting up.

“Let’s go do this thing. And after – “ he trails off, smiling. “No more teasing.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” I blurt out, and Andi bursts out laughing.

“I hate you,” he says walking out of our room. Richi is waiting on the other side of the door and is quick to scold Andi although he has no idea what Andi was referring to. 

It’s a good morning after all.

~x~

The minute we step outside our room, Andi is not my friend – or a potential whatever our earlier conversation hinted – anymore, he’s just a teammate, and we have a job to do.

Richi gives us a pep talk before we leave to the hill, and Markus complains about him being too loud. I don’t know what he did last night. He came back around eight in the morning and only just woke up. Needless to say he’s hangover. 

“Go win me a medal and then we can party afterwards,” he hollers after us when we leave.

And we do. We do win a medal, and I don’t fail anyone. Not myself, not my teammates, and Karl is yelling silver to my ear when the Poles get their final points. The Norwegians win of course, good for them, but we are the second best tonight and the second place means a medal.

Andi flails around in our waxing cabin after the flower giving ceremony. A ceremony where I was standing on the podium instead of watching from the sidelines. Andi says it’s his silver dance, I say it looks weird. He wants me to dance with him, I politely decline and escape to pack my things. Karl hums quietly in the corner, as Richi barges in with Markus.

“I invited the Norwegians,” Richi informs us.

“What! Why?” Andi whirls around.

“Because,” Richi says and trots around the cabin. 

“The more the merrier,” Markus finishes for him. “Now hurry up and pack, there’s a party waiting for us.” He makes a beeline to me and smiles. I’m immediately on guard as I stuff my helmet to the bag. 

“I did a little research last night,” Markus leans to whisper, and him whispering is making me even more suspicious. 

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” he pops the p. “You know there are these tiny rooms in the German House. First floor near the toilets. They are supposed to be media rooms or something, I don’t know, but there’s couches and the door locks and they are never used during the evening parties,” Markus wiggles his brows at me.

“Yeah?” I have a tiny hunch of what he’s trying to say and I hope I’m not right. Markus nudges my shoulder.

“Just though I should mention them if you happen to have any use for them,” Markus says. He pulls me closer and stuffs something to my pocket. It’s a bunch of condoms. ”Tande is coming to the party and he should be in a good mood after winning that gold medal.” 

“There’s nothing going on with me and Tande,” I sigh.

“Oh really?” Markus smirks.

“Really. Why do you care so much anyway? Andi and Richi are just as single as I am and you never bother them about it.”

I can see the smile falling from Markus’ face as he stares at me. He looks confused, cocks his head to the side as he answers.

“But they are happy being single,” he says. “You’re not happy alone, are you?” He says it so matter-of-factly that I’m caught surprised. Markus lowers his voice. “I mean, you don’t like talking about it, but you want your happily ever after, don’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at those happy couples, you want that.” 

I mean… Who doesn’t? I didn’t think Markus would ever notice that though. He is always so busy running from place to place, having fun and doing whatever he likes. I didn’t think he’d ever stop to actually think about my situation. I didn’t think he’d care so much.

I was wrong.

“I, uh, yeah,” I mumble, glancing at Andi, who has stopped his dancing and is sneaking glances at our direction. I smile at him, remembering the conversation we had in the morning. “You know what,” I turn back to Markus, suddenly touched by his willingness to help. He might be annoying with his help and have the completely wrong ways of doing it, but he does it because he just wants me to be happy. “I’m kind of interested in someone, and we are maybe going to see, if it’s going somewhere. And I think I just need a little bit of time, to do this my way, right?” I smile at him. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’ll let you set up a blind date for me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Markus grins and proceeds to hug me. The hug is just an excuse for him to sneak more condoms to my pocket. “Also who is it that you’re interested in?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“I make sure you will,” Markus decides, claps me on the shoulder as he goes.

~x~

I’ve lost myself. Nothing is real anymore.

I’m in a dream, standing next to Andi as a silver medalist. He has his arm around me, and the noise in the room gives me the perfect excuse to lean closer as I speak to him. My lips grace his ear as he sways, and I imagine him shuddering from the light touch, leaning closer to me. I’m not sure what is happening around us. Someone is yelling to the microphone. There’s a big screen showing our jumps, the jumps that got us the silver medals a few hours ago. 

I am an Olympic medalist, and it still feels unreal. Two days ago I was dreaming of a chance to jump in the Olympics. It was an impossible dream, I hadn’t had a single competition jump during the Olympics. No place for me in the individual competitions and the guys had been so good, I thought there wasn’t a chance for me.

I pinch Andi’s waist.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Just making sure I’m not dreaming.” I smile at the big screen, not turning to look at him. I can’t, it’s already too much. There hasn’t been time for us to be alone after the competition. We went from flower ceremony to changing clothes to the bus and now we’re here, in the German House, and all eyes are on us. There hasn’t been a chance for privacy, for a few moments alone, but I take what I can get with him: his arm on my shoulders, his hand on my chest, over my heart that is beating wildly. 

I have waited for two years, I can wait a bit longer. I can enjoy the party, I can enjoy the success, because I get to enjoy it with him.

“Pinch yourself then, you idiot, not me,” Andi laughs and I should’ve seen it coming. His hand sneaks under my t-shirt, finds the skin hidden beneath the clothes. I wait for the pinch but doesn’t come. He traces my abs, sticks his finger into my bellybutton, and when I laugh his other hand sneaks to my chest, finds my nipple through the fabric of my t-shirt and twists.

“Andi!” I try to get away but he keeps me close and laughs against my ear.

“Guess you’re not dreaming then.” He sounds smug. Tease, I want to say to him, but my thoughts drown to the applause. They are waiting for us in the stage.

I thought I could have Andi with me all night. Naively I thought that at the party there wouldn’t be a need to be anywhere else than next to him. I thought I’d get to keep him but I soon lose him to the crowd. I thought I’d be disappointed not getting to be with him, only him, but it’s impossible to be disappointed tonight. 

The party in the German House picks up when the night grows longer. It is a dream world, a magical place, where failure and sadness doesn’t exist. It a world of happiness and laughter and beer and champagne. The reality tries to keep its hold of me, but I’m flying away from it.

It’s us on the stage celebrating, and I’m still struggling to open my champagne bottle when everyone else is already celebrating.

The champagne flows and everyone is soaked, and Andi is next to me posing for photos. His hand rests on my shoulders. His fingers brush my neck, and it’s electrifying. 

“Dance with me,” he whispers but I don’t, because I don’t dance, not on stage, not in front of everyone. It doesn’t matter, because Markus dances and he doesn’t mind the stage or the audience, and Andi cheers so much he forgets to pester me.

It’s the Norwegians celebrating with us. They come dressed up in their finest and next to them we look ridiculous in our t-shirts and jeans. They are mostly sober when we are already more than tipsy, but they are quick to catch us up.

It’s the Norwegians on the stage celebrating, Tande mimicking the famous lift from Dirty Dancing and nearly ending up on his face in the crowd because his coach is not being careful enough. It’s cheering and laughing and Tande dancing on the stage while the rest of the golden medalists stand back. They’re all drunk, we’re all drunk, and the look on Forfang’s face is a mix of irritation and arousal as he watches his teammate dance.

The irritation gets even deeper when Andi struts back to the stage and walks straight to Tande. I lose a sight of them for two minutes because Karl gives me another glass of beer and demands I pay attention to him. Next time I look Andi and Tande stand hunched together on the side of the stage and are having what looks like a very serious and thoroughly drunken conversation. Forfang is nowhere to be seen.

The party is loud and it’s getting louder. It’s blasting music and laughter and people yelling to be heard. It is a dance floor full of sweaty people, bouncing to the rhythm. It’s me laughing and refusing to dance with Andi when he tries to get me to the dance floor. I’m not drunk enough for that, not in front of so many people. 

“I don’t dance.”

“Spoilsport,” he accuses. His hands linger on my waist, and there’s a familiar tease in his voice. He dances in front of me for a minute or two before winking and disappearing in the dancing crowd.

Flowing alcohol, a constant flow on people congratulating me. The party is achy cheeks from smiling too much. It’s toast after toast after toast.

It’s Andi wearing Tande’s jacket, hugging him in the middle of the dance floor, with Forfang standing next to them looking pissed off. I know it should be none of my business but the sight of Andi wearing someone else’s jacket makes something churn in my stomach. 

“Hi,” Forfang yells when he sees me inching closer. ”Can you get him off of him? I’ve been trying for the past five minutes but he just won’t let go.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” I mutter and smile bashfully. If I would be more sober this would be mortifying but I’m still blessedly drunk enough to not care about what Forfang thinks of me or Andi. “Andi, love,” I pull his sleeve. “You can’t keep him all for yourself.”

Andi lifts his face from Tande’s neck, when he hears my voice. He beams when he sees me and pushes Tande away in order to launch himself at me. Tande sways from the push and probably would have faceplanted to the floor if Forfang wasn’t there to catch him. They exchange a few words in Norwegian, Tande shouting happily, Forfang muttering grumpily. 

“Dance with me,” Andi demands not caring about the two Norwegians next to us.

“I don’t dance,” I remind him. 

“Boring,” he says and plants his lips on my neck. He stays there, gathering his energy or just trying to figure out how his feet work, I don’t know. It is our party and it is a dream world, but I make sure Andi’s next drink is a glass of water.

The party tastes like beer and champagne. It feels like Andi fingers on my waist, his lips on my neck. It’s a champagne soaked clothes slowly drying, then getting damp from sweat again. It’s friends and colleagues and strangers. It’s Andi looking at me across the dance floor, finding me at the most random times, smiling, asking me to dance with him. It’s me saying no time after time, and offering him a glass of water when everything gets too much.

It’s exhilarating, and even with glasses of water in between the reality gets further and further away. That is what winning feels like, and I don’t want it to end.

In the end it is four in the morning and me escorting Andi to the toilet because apparently he got lost trying to find his way on his own. He is drunk, so very drunk and tired and happy. 

“You’re so clever,” Andi muses as he leans to me on an empty hallway near the toilet. “Dance with me,” he demands putting his arms around my neck. I’ve declined every time he has asked, I’m done resisting anymore.

“There’s no music,” I say though there’s plenty of music coming from the ballroom to the hallway we are currently in. I wrap my arms around his waist anyway and hold him closer. 

“Doesn’t matter. I just want to dance with you.” He starts swaying from side to side, and that’s innocent enough so I comply to amuse him. I should probably get him some more water when we get back. I switched from beer to water an hour ago. The medal ceremony is tomorrow and I do not want to vomit my hangover all over the stage in front of hundreds and hundreds of people. Andi doesn’t seem to have those kinds of worries but then again he doesn’t really get hangovers. 

It’s difficult to calm my thoughts enough to realize this is the first time we’ve been alone together since our conversation in the morning. There has been moments, shared looks and touches, but this is the first time, when it’s just the two of us in the empty hallway, just the two of in this world where we are silver medalists and everything is possible. 

The beat changes in the distance, it gets faster, dirtier, and Andi grinds against me. He grins when I look at him and continues dancing, arms around my neck, fingers playing with my hair, and I can’t stop looking at him. His eyes shine, he smells like sweat and beer and winning, and it makes my head dizzy. Although that might be all the beer and champagne I’ve been drinking too. 

How about that kiss, I want to suggest, but saying that out loud seems stupid, so I just look at him trying to gather the courage to do something. Andi doesn’t seem to have any problem with courage. He pushes me against the wall and gets even closer, grinds his body against mine and this is good too. It’s so good, too good, I soon realize. 

Oh damn – 

It isn’t my fault, I am only human, and Andi keeps grinding against me, and I’m getting hard, and it wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

It was supposed to sweet kisses and talking about everything before I was supposed to be even thinking about this, about the condoms on my pocket, about him so close to me.

“We should – “ I start, but Andi shushes me as he slides his hands to my chest and down, down he goes. My brain is not following fast enough. He is in front of me, grinning, and then he’s not anymore. He’s on the floor, fumbling with my zipper and – what?

“Andi – “

“Let me, please.” He looks at me from the floor, and how much has he been drinking? How much have I because the longer he looks at me the better the idea starts to seem. He’s my best friend, and we have just won an Olympic medal. We are winners and everything is possible. 

This is a very bad idea, says a tiny part of my brain but the rest of it shushes it quickly. This is the best idea ever. We are drunk and horny and in love.

Not in love.

Shut up!

We are drunk and horny and on our way to our happily ever after.

We talked enough in the morning, surely we are on the same page already. He wants it, I want it. Tonight we can have everything.

“Bathroom,” I say and pull him back up again. There are voices fighting in my head and I’m probably going mad but it’s totally worth it if I can have Andi right now, here, tonight. It’s our night anyway, we can do whatever we want. And I want this. So does he.

_So does he._

“No wait,” I stop as I remember Markus’ earlier advice. I look around to see the door further along the corridor. “There, let’s try there.” I point the way and Andi all but sprints towards the door pulling me with him. I stumble a little as I go, knock my arm to the door, and he whines about me not being quick enough. I laugh because this situation is absurd and I don’t know how we ended up in here. 

Here is a tiny room with a grey couch and a tiny television on the wall. There are no windows and no other furniture, just an empty camera stand in the middle of the floor. And the door, it locks, Markus was right.

“Tell me how,” Andi begs when I close the door behind us, and I quickly forget the room as I see him falling on his knees. 

This might be his first time, I realize. He doesn’t have any previous drunken experiences, he hasn’t found a stranger from the bar and taken him home. He hasn’t been kissing boys in darken corners, he hasn’t done any of the things I’ve been spending my years enjoying. Enjoying until the pleasure strange hands and foreign bodies brought became laced with longing for it to mean something.

I want to ask what he wants, what he needs, but “slowly” is what comes out of my mouth instead of anything else, and slow he goes. Painstakingly slow, looking at me when he opens the zipper of my jeans. He pulls my trousers down, fingers dancing on my thighs and I wish I had been wise enough to sit down on the couch. I lean against the wall instead. My boxers are grey and boring and I wish I had worn another pair. As if that would matter, he has seen me in all of my boxers throughout the years, this isn’t anything special. 

Except it is.

“Are you sure?” I ask, and he nods from the floor, then seems to get distracted by the sight in front of him. His fingers freeze on my thighs, and I let him stare for a minute before taking the lead. I guide him closer, his breath warming my skin, my fingers running through his hair. He mutters something incomprehensible before kissing the tender skin, and it’s difficult to make a distinction between the dream and a reality. In this moment they are the same.

He’s not a natural, he’s fumbling, taking too much at first, trying to find the rhythm. It’s messy and uncoordinated and perfectly imperfect. 

Haze on my mind, I don’t realize that he’s brought me to the edge so quickly.

“Wait, wait,” I want to warn him as I start to slip. I’m not quick enough, neither is he. He swallows, and for a minute I’m mortified for not warning him on time. But it’s just a twist on my stomach, and it’s so easy to forget everything in this moment.

He looks up at me, dazed, as I stroke my thumb over his cheek.

I want to kiss you, please let me kiss you, I want to beg him. I want to help him reach the ecstasy, the world where lines are blurred and sensibility is only a hazy memory somewhere on the back of my mind. I need to get him closer, need to hold him, kiss him, tell him he means everything to me. I need to take him home, make him breakfast in the morning. I need to fall in love with him, because I’m halfway there already, and I don’t know how to stop.

I help him stand up as I open my mouth, feeling the words on my tongue. 

“Sorry,” he winces before I can say anything and scrambles out of the room.

“Andi?” There’s an empty room around me, silence ringing in my ears. It takes a moment to realize what is happening, to pull my pants back up again and remember how to use my legs to follow him. What just happened, what did I do, what made him run that way, the questions are swirling in my head. Was it just a dream after all, was it all my imagination? There’s a fraction in my bubble, and the reality tries to seep through to my dream world.

The corridor is empty so I try the bathroom. He doesn’t answer as I call his name, the bathroom door stays closed before me.

If I wasn’t sober earlier, I definitely on my way there right now. The pounding music reminds me of a world outside this moment. The party is still going strong, we are still winners, but something went wrong during the last few minutes, and I have no idea what it was. 

“Andi?” I try again. “Talk to me, please.” I try the door, it’s open. “Are you alright?” I want to go in to check he’s alright but I don’t want to invade his privacy if he wants to be alone.”Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I can hear him mumble from the inside. I push the door open and see him leaning against the sink. He stares at himself from the mirror for a while before looking at me. “I thought I was going to puke.”

“Oh.” 

Right. That’s a first.

I mean, I can’t say I’m the most experienced guy out there, but I have had my share of sex, and as far as I know, no one has ever puked after having sex with me. I’m not that bad, I think.

“NO!” Andi whirls to me, seemingly realizing what he just said. “Oh my god, no, I’m sorry! See! I’m an idiot. I just freaked out! I’ve never done that before, and I’m doing it all wrong and –“

“You were great,” I interrupt.

“ – we were supposed to kiss and talk and – what?”

“I said you were great,” I repeat. “It was great, I’m not complaining.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, look, I said I don’t want the casual thing, but if that’s all it was, fine, it’s not a big deal” I rub my neck and try not to let the disappointment in my voice. It’s late, or early, and we’ve had a long day. I went from an amazing orgasm to this, and quite frankly this isn’t the way I imagined ending my evening.

“No, no!” Andi is shaking his head. “No, please don’t go.” He takes my hand and pulls me closer. He hides his face to my shoulder. “It is a big deal, I want it to be a big deal. But you’re so experienced and perfect, and I literally have no idea what I’m doing.” He continues to babble about how terrible he is, and this is starting to be too much to handle at half five in the morning. He is probably as tired as I am, and we really shouldn’t try to handle anything at this hour.

“Okay, listen,” I begin as I hug him closer and stroke his back. “Let’s just go get some breakfast then go back to the apartment and sleep. And talk later, tomorrow, when we have time. That okay with you?” 

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” It sounds like some twisted version of our conversation in the morning. Andi seems to realize that too, because he returns my smile when I smirk at him.

We get our coats, say goodbye to Richi and Karl who are chatting with Fannemel near the door. They are planning to leave soon too, but don’t want to go just yet. Richi mutters something about Markus. Last time I saw Markus he and Tande were having some kind of dance off and who knows what they are doing at the moment. Karl is yawning and telling Fannemel some story about alcohol poisoning as that would be the most interesting thing in the world.

We leave them to ponder the dangers of beer. 

The early morning air is crisp and quiet. We don’t dare break the silence as we walk through the Olympic Village. We only exchange a few words, then couple more during the breakfast in the cafeteria. Andi loads his plate full of fruits and bacon and I find it disgusting. After breakfast I don’t think, I don’t dwell, I don’t second-guess, I do what feels right, as I take Andi’s hand. We walk back to our apartment hand in hand, and his touch is grounding.

The world is quiet, my mind is calm. I hold Andi’s hand as we walk through the Village, and we are halfway to our apartment when he pulls me against him.

“I’m sorry I panicked before,” he whispers. “I’ve been kind of dreaming of doing that for quite some time now and having your dreams come true can be a bit overwhelming.” He stands there in front of me a tiny smile on his face, waiting for my reaction to his honest words. It a cold morning in Korea and my nose is freezing when I kiss him next to the Olympic rings. 

The kiss tastes like orange juice and strawberries, and I smile against his lips. There aren’t thoughts in my head, there aren’t any questions. I know we have time for them later, I know we’ll talk about everything, but at this moment the kiss is enough. It’s early morning frost and the smell of snow. It’s winter wind picking up and freezing my fingers. It’s Andi’s tongue dancing with my own, his lips meeting mine again and again and again. It isn’t hunger for more, it’s just enough. 

Just us and the waking world, our smiles against each other’s and our fingers intertwined.


End file.
